


your flame will not survive in this cold tundra

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arranged Marriage, AtLA AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, graphic description of violence in the later half of chapter 2, loose symbolism of hades/persephone myth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: "I'm sorry," Atsumu laughs again. His throat convulses once, twice, as his voice goes up, "Princes don't cry, do they?"They're hidden behind a pillar of one of the inner courtyards. The skies are clear, the moon round and shining above them. The constellation Tui is visible, peeking through the foliage of a plum tree. The flora is strange and there is actual grass several meters away.All in all, a good night for a wedding.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 43
Kudos: 337





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -omi flops to the ground- i finally finished this fic oh god, this one took me too long.
> 
> cw: there's some very **brief** mentions of character deaths but they dont relate to our boys in any way
> 
> edit 25/12/20: there will be a part 2, all in atsumu's pov of his childhood and onwards. when will it be posted? not sure, give me some weeks.

"You're crying."

The Prince of the Fire Nation shrugs, taking the handkerchief Kiyoomi offered. He presses it beneath his eyes with a steady hand and look of one mourning despite the music playing nearby.

Kiyoomi gazes at the scene around them. They're hidden behind a pillar of one of the inner courtyards. The skies are clear, the moon round and shining above them. The constellation Tui is visible, peeking through the foliage of a plum tree. The flora is strange and there is actual grass several meters away.

All in all, a good night for a wedding.

Kiyoomi had traded his furs for robes the moment the papers were signed. First, a black one made of silk, then a deep red, plain one with gold trimmings at the edges on top before they smoothed the third and final layer on his shoulders, the back embroidered with a golden dragon.

A cool breeze sweeps over the courtyard, causing the rubies dangling from his ears to click together. He'd taken off his whale bone earrings too, setting them aside and borrowing the ones Princess Suzume handed over earlier in the evening.

They listen to Bokuto's and Keiji's laugh somewhere below, a cluster of bushes hiding them from view. The summer heat had dissipated before the dancing started, and Kiyoomi knows that Motoya is wandering around, trying to give them his well wishes.

Atsumu returns the handkerchief to him, eyes dull as he gives a short dip of his head, "I apologize," He says, voice husky, "The smoke must have irritated me."

There's no smoke around them. Bokuto had cleared the incense that burned earlier with a wave of his fingers, making shapes for his little boy. He watches as Atsumu smooths his red robes, hand fluttering up to make sure his headpiece is still secure.

He reaches up with his left hand, watching the way the glow of the party shines on the prince's skin, quickly wiping a tear he missed.

It's a hasty wedding, thrown at the last minute by the palace when Kiyoomi and his mother arrived with three boats of waterbenders. The papers and trade agreements— that in exchange for giving the Fire Nation a helping hand with the five hurricanes that struck their islands, a trading route will be permanently established— had been signed when Atsumu and Kiyoomi were separated by their respective mothers and stuffed into robes.

Kiyoomi peers out from their hiding spot, catching the Fire Lord sipping some wine, his daughter in law next to him. There was no need to shove Kiyoomi and Atsumu together, but a deal of rebuilding the entire country was too good to exist.

So what better way to make sure they don't go back on their word by marrying his grandson to the Northern Water Tribe's only heir?

"I'm sorry," Prince Atsumu laughs again, swiping his eyes with another sleeve as Kiyoomi relaxes his arm, letting it dangle. His throat convulses once, twice, as his voice goes up, "Princes don't cry, do they?"

There's a burn on Atsumu's neck not so carefully concealed by his collar. It's hard to think that the prince went from rebuilding villages in the Jang Hui Province to being married in a few hours.

They both turn their heads when the first fireworks splashes across the sky, a red and yellow flower. Another pop and it's a phoenix. A blue roundel. Spirals of reds and greens. Someone is cheering, asking where they are.

He wordlessly follows Atsumu back to the party, sitting down on the main table and accepting words of well wishes from various nobles and palace workers. 

A man with grey hair and black tips approaches them with a small smile, coins in hand. Kiyoomi watches the way his husband leans towards him like a flower seeking sunlight, eyes crinkling with adoration.

Below the table, he squeezes his hands together in his lap.

* * *

* * *

He doesn't sleep after the festivities have wrapped up, staring at the moon. The bedchambers of the Prince— _former_ Prince— of the Fire Nation are full of little trinkets, so once Atsumu falls asleep, Kiyoomi ties a loose robe around him and pulls himself up on a little sitting nook in a corner.

He gazes around the room. Cream marble tiles, cool beneath his feet, a four poster wooden bed with sculptures of dragons and phoenixes in the grain and a bookshelf in the corner next to a vase that reaches his shoulders. There's a large table by one wall, full of scrolls, ink brushes and pots.

Next to it is Kiyoomi's trunk.

From the open window, he could hear cheers faintly in the distance outside the Caldera. Outside the crater is the neighboring city, and Kiyoomi can see peeks of it from the window here, houses alit, pops of firecrackers going off.

Everyone is celebrating their wedding even if they don't know who he is, only repeating the little bits of information the palace have released. A blessing from Agni, the North aiding them in rebuilding their country. So many people happy for a marriage where no love exists.

He supposes the wedding is helping the dreary mood, remembering the way Princess Suzume had apologized to him about the hastiness and lack of grandeur.

" _It's fine_ ," He'd brushed her worries away, " _The Fire Nation should ration out their food for the citizens, not to spend it all on a single night._ "

He rolls his left hand around, fiddling with the trigger that hid the dagger in his arm compartment. Atsumu's eyes had widen when Kiyoomi took off his robes, but he didn't make a comment about the mechanical arm, nor did he ask him about the silver scars running down from his chin, throat and onto his collarbones.

Kiyoomi waited for the questions, the judgmental looks, but nothing came his way but the slight hesitation before Atsumu cleared his throat and asked if he could touch it.

So proper, like a true prince.

And like a true prince, utterly selfless in letting himself be used as a bargaining chip for the good of his Nation.

Kiyoomi leans his head against the window, falling asleep to the sounds of cheering outside the walls. In his mind, a pair of arms slides themselves around his middle and tucks him into bed.

* * *

* * *

Here is a secret.

Prince Atsumu will never be Fire Lord despite being the first born.

In the arctic seas, Kiyoomi makes sure the blue cloth around his nose is secured tightly, seeing the looming gates of the Northern Water Tribe coming into view. The boat speeds up, not on his command, but he doesn't tell the benders to stop, eager to be on ice as well.

The moment he steps off, he's ordering his men around to prepare a cargo ship for the Fire Nation. Dried meats, oil, fish and iron ore. And of course, waterbenders who are willing to volunteer to be away from home for a few months.

Kiyoomi rejoins his tribe as they prepare for the winter months, marking the passage of time by the angle of the sun. He helps of course, tracking the footprints of buffalo yaks in the tundra, dragging leopard seals from airholes and replying to dignitaries around the world.

He watches the blue flags whip in the cold sea, the supply boats disappearing in the horizon.

The tribe teases him about coming home without a husband. He takes it all in good merriment and shrugs. Prince Atsumu is more valuable in the Fire Nation currently, Kiyoomi can wait.

He remembers spending his summers in Princess Suzume's favorite gardens, chasing other sons and daughters when the palace differentiated the twins by wrapping ribbons around their wrists. The ladies and mothers giggled over tea while they raced around the grass.

Despite being firstborn, Atsumu was not the nation's favorite. That title was given to the younger brother.

Even tempered, calm, polite and with a steadier head on his shoulders, Osamu was favored by the Fire Lord. Of course Atsumu was talented, given the title of firebending master a few years shy of his twentieth birthday and having a sharp mind for tactics, but this is peacetime.

Perhaps if it's wartime, Atsumu would be the better choice.

Kiyoomi pities him slightly. Atsumu knew from a young age that there is nothing he can do, no matter if he outdid his twin, that will change who his grandfather favors. He's had twenty-two years of practice before the Fire Lord bartered Atsumu away like a game tile to the North.

Seasons pass. Darkness engulfs the North and the seas around them freeze, expanding their reaches of white and cold. In the summer, the trading routes open again and Kiyoomi visits, sitting down in Atsumu's apartment for tea and to take back what the Fire Lord promised him.

The Crown Prince and prince consort hugs Atsumu goodbye at the docks. Kiyoomi pretends to be interested in a seabird nearby, trying to give them a moment of privacy.

"You can come back to visit anytime," Osamu crushes his brother tightly, Atsumu smacking his head and grumbling about broken ribs, "You don't even have to contact us or anything. Special permission."

"I'm your fucking brother, I don't need permission," Atsumu spits, looking sour, but Kiyoomi sees a flicker in his eyes when he realizes that he's a part of the Water Tribe now. He has been, technically, for a year, but duties and the rebuilding efforts have kept him here, "Don't make trouble, okay?"

"You'll hear it if I make trouble," Osamu side eyes Rin, who gives both twins a grin. Then they're all hugging each other before Atsumu sighs and takes a step back, looking lost.

Kiyoomi thinks about the day Princess Suzume offered him a bicycle to try instead of the tricycle he was using. He fell on the grass a lot, watching the scrapes fade when a waterbender working in the palace was called.

"Don't be a stranger," Rin's voice floats into Kiyoomi's ear, "Write to us."

"I will," Atsumu replies, "Take care of my brother, okay?"

Then someone is tapping on Kiyoomi's shoulders and he spins around to see Atsumu entering the boat, the youngest members of the royal family looking at them with longing.

Kiyoomi mouths, _I'll take care of him_.

The two nod. Kiyoomi boards the ship and tells the captain to raise the anchor.

* * *

* * *

The prince is homesick.

It doesn't show immediately. The prince tackles his duties as Kiyoomi's prince consort with endless energy, seeing that the sun never sets now in the North. Kiyoomi nearly had a heart attack when he staggered out of his rooms to see Atsumu stretching and sweating, going through firebending patterns in the ice garden.

"It's—" He squinted blearily at the sun, "—It's not even _morning_ yet."

"We rise with the sun," Atsumu said, punching and letting several balls of flames shoot out. None of them hit the pillars, which was good because the entire palace will crumble, "And it's already ten!"

It's the early mornings when Kiyoomi has to join the hunters that he sees a little figure hunched near the fireplace in the dining room, the sun just barely peeking above the horizon. It's in the way Atsumu would stay at the docks for as long as possible whenever a Fire Nation ship comes by, hoping they have letters from his homeland. 

It's the little way Atsumu would suddenly say something, spin his head around, and realize that Kiyoomi is not Osamu.

His people love him. 

The children loves his firebending tricks, the elderly appreciates his warm hands and ability to heat up bath water in ten seconds. He is witty and funny with the guards, who are delighted to find that the prince swears worse than a sailor. 

He does everything well once he learns, most likely from years of trying to one-up his twin.

Up in the Northern Water Tribe, there is only a window of time for boats to cross into the city. Once late September hits, the temperatures plummet and ice starts creeping across the horizon, blocking out the dark blue waters. There would be no escaping the North when the sea ice hardens until spring comes around and melts it.

And creeping closer to November, the sun doesn't rise at all.

The first year Atsumu stays in the North, he retreats into a shell, always wanting to sleep in his apartments. Kiyoomi, concerned, tried to tempt him with bending matches, sparring practices, weapons and Pai Sho.

The only thing that would rouse him would be a half frozen fire hawk carrying a letter from his family.

As soon as the seas thaw, Kiyoomi sends Osamu a letter, asking what Atsumu likes to do on his spare time. The Crown Prince sends him a short list that includes sparring and Pai Sho. 

_He is not receptive to any of them_ , Kiyoomi writes angrily.

_T_ _hat's odd_ , Osamu replies. _He usually never shuts up about how good he is at Pai Sho._

"Why don't you visit?" He asks him one night when they're in the corner of the banquet hall.

His mother's birthday is today. She's currently dancing with his father, her smile as bright as the ice sculptures around them.

Atsumu stares at him, hair twisted into a topknot. He'd brought his headpiece along, gold and small, among the artifacts of home in his trunk. It's a triple pronged flame, shaped differently than the Crown Prince headpiece, "Huh?"

"You haven't visited since you left, right? The seas are nearly frozen, though," Kiyoomi mutters, calculating. Atsumu is the only one wearing two layers inside. Kiyoomi had taken off his coat and is dressed in a sleeveless tunic the color of the sea, arm sleeves hiked up to where his deltoids end, "I can get you on a boat to the Fire Nation tonight."

"You don't mind?"

Atsumu's eyes are hopeful, eager. He looks like Kiyoomi had told him a Fire Nation ship has been spotted from the gates.

_I do, I want you to stay here_ , he thinks.

"Go visit if you miss them. Send a letter on your return."

Atsumu blinks, then he disappears to pack. Kiyoomi excuses himself from the festivities to prepare a boat for him, finding several members of his navy among his mother's party guests and apologizing that they might have to leave the boat docked at an ice shelf and trek back to the city.

"For your husband, right?" Konoha laughs, pushing away the gold Kiyoomi tries to hand over, smacking his crew on the arm to get their attention as an acrobat flips to the front of the room, "Sure, sure."

"Thank you," He mumbles awkwardly.

The Northern Water Tribe braces itself through winter. Communication with the rest of the nations is minimal, and Kiyoomi spends long, dark days sitting next to the fire, sipping the bottle of rice wine Rin had given him from the last cargo shipment, thinking about a boy with a warm heart miles away.

It's Motoya who calls him out when Kiyoomi sets sail for the Earth Kingdom with his mother. 

Lady Akemi shrieks and hops in circles when she meets her sister, Motoya's mother, spinning around like she's five and carefree again. Kiyoomi sees his cousin struggle through the dock workers, hugging him when Motoya breaks through.

"You sent him _away?_ "

"Who cares?" He grumbles, striding through the halls of the Royal Palace. Ba Sing Se is far enough north that they have a spring season. Several cherry blossoms in the courtyards are in bloom as Motoya lengthens his legs to keep up with his pace, "He's homesick, let him go home."

"What do your people think?"

"Shocked, but they understand," Losing a hand in winter isn't as scandalous as losing a hand during summer, where they're working around the clock to catch up to their three months of absolute darkness. 

He has fond memories of the Earth Kingdom. It's a shame that his cousin is third in line of succession, which meant that he has enough freedom that secretaries aren't dogging after him every minute of his day like Wakatoshi.

"How long will he stay there?"

Kiyoomi shrugs, "I told him to send a letter when he's coming back."

Motoya is quiet. Kiyoomi can feel the displeasure from here as he continues on his walk to the meeting room, the pile of trade agreements and fishing treaties tucked under his arm. This should technically be his mother's job, but he'd relieved it off of her so she can spend more time visiting her parents and childhood friends.

"He knew it'll be like this."

Kiyoomi stops in the halls, his blue clothes out of place among the green and yellow tapestries and paintings. 

"A marriage of convenience...no one is really happy in those," Motoya says quietly, "He's a prince, duties are not the unknown, he knows of this—"

" _I know_ ," Kiyoomi grounds out, feeling his betrothal necklace around his throat, hidden thanks to his mask, "But just because it's a win for me doesn't mean it's a win for him so you must understand that I'm trying my best to make him happy. And if happiness means letting him spend ten out of twelve months in the Fire Nation, then so _be it_ , Motoya."

He leaves the Earth Kingdom shortly after, the cherry blossoms still blooming.

* * *

* * *

As years pass, Atsumu becomes predictable. He leaves for the Fire Nation in September and comes back to Kiyoomi in March, just in time to see the sun trek across the sky, never setting.

People talk. Kiyoomi snaps at them to focus on work if they have so much free time gossiping about his husband. They all give him concerned frowns.

Atsumu becomes alive in the summer. He joins hunts, shucks shellfish, packs fish in ice and races across the tundra with children riding his shoulders. Kiyoomi can pick out his laugh among his people now, smooth, warm, like the sun itself.

They slip into a routine of easy friendship. The Fire Nation sends the North gifts every year for helping them, and every time Kiyoomi visits for work, they always throw a festival or five for him.

"National polls says you might even be _more_ popular than Samu," Rin cackles. This horrifies Kiyoomi, which of course, leads to Rin listing off more national poll results at him until Osamu tugs him back with a warning poke to his cheek.

Poll results aside, they thank him and his people profusely every time Rin takes him down into the city to sample a new dumpling house that opened. Kiyoomi accepts them because he is a good son representing his tribe, but he knows that he's just a thief that stole Atsumu from the only place he wanted to belong in.

"Why did you marry me?"

They're in the Fire Nation for Kita's wedding. Kiyoomi had rubbed soothing circles onto Atsumu's back when he shed quiet tears in his old apartments after they came back from the ceremony, the cream marble floors as familiar as the phoenixes and dragons on his bed.

No one seemed to have moved his things. It looks exactly as Kiyoomi saw it last. Even his trunk is in the same spot as last time.

Atsumu's hand doesn't fumble, pouring them some alcohol and wordlessly asking if he wants some with a raise of his eyebrows. Kiyoomi drinks alcohol quite often. It's the only thing that keeps him warm when the winds are too harsh to keep a fire stoked during a long hunt.

He sips his drink. It's smooth.

Atsumu is always honest. Kind, but honest, "For the same reason as you, for the good of our people."

Atsumu, as with any firebender, has a tendency to run warm, so he's shirtless, leaning against his bed as Kiyoomi tucks his knees to his chest, sitting on the tiles next to him. Summer weddings are popular in the Fire Nation, but a consequence of that is the sticky heat. 

Kiyoomi's hair is soaked with sweat. He can't help but track the rainclouds gathering over in the distance promising of a relief in a few hours, sipping another mouthful.

Atsumu strokes the metal plates of Kiyoomi's left arm.

Many moons ago, Kiyoomi would not hesitate to freeze someone into a block of ice if they touch him, but now he's used to Atsumu pulling him up from the sparring mats and pressing on his chi points after a challenging round of bending.

Kiyoomi darts his eyes to a fresh scar on Atsumu's arm. Did he not heal him after they threw knives at a board? He always tries to, frowning and wondering if the air is humid enough to draw water from it.

"I never asked," He starts, "But what happened?"

His skin is hot and there is a droplet of sweat pooling around his collar bones. Something warm curls around his cheeks as he stares at Atsumu.

So he clears his throat and tells him. Does he remember when they would all gather in Princess Suzume's favorite garden in the summer? 

"You got lost on your first visit, I remember," Atsumu laughs, "The entire palace went nuts trying to find a blue-clothed toddler."

"Yes," Kiyoomi's lips twist, "You found me by the turtle duck pond and said they prefer grapes instead of the grass I was ripping up."

His eyes follows the curve of Atsumu's ear, watching the moon throw light against his cheekbones, the line of his nose, at the bangs that fell out of his topknot. Kiyoomi yearns to touch, to press his lips against Atsumu's in private compared to their first and last kiss in front of an audience in the Fire Nation, remembering how he tasted like pomegranate wine.

Atsumu doesn't make a comment when Kiyoomi tugs on his headpiece, shaking his hair out of the topknot. It's shaggy and thick, the strands at the bottom curling around his neck.

"Do you not get sweaty when it's the summer?"

"I just ask the palace to layer it," Atsumu says, eyes closed. "But it's useful now, since I'm around ice and snow. How come your hair is short?"

Kiyoomi does not have a wolf's tail. His bangs are long and the back of his head is cropped short. He does have a few beads braided into his fringe, though they're easily missed among his curls.

"I couldn't tie my hair when I first got my arm," He smiles, "So they kept my hair short. But I should let it grow out, huh."

"I like it as it is. Short hair suits you."

"Thank you."

Atsumu raises his hand to sip at his drink, setting the cup beside him, "So what happened next? You and Lady Akemi stopped coming over the year we turned eight, then the North didn't open their trading routes until a few years ago."

"My three sisters lost their lives in a polar bear dog attack."

Atsumu sits up, eyes wide. The flush from the alcohol makes his cheeks glow in the moonlight, "They're— they're not in the Earth Kingdom?"

Kiyoomi shakes his head, "I thought you knew?"

"Not until now," Atsumu stares at him, horrified. His eyebrows pulls down, "I'm sorry. For your losses."

Kiyoomi fiddles with the trigger of the dagger compartment in his arm, "I ran off in a blizzard and lost my way. Of course, no one could really keep Naomi from sitting still and the next thing I knew, the three of them found me."

He'd been so cold then, curling up into a ball against a small hillside to get some protection from the wind when Naomi appeared in front of him with a lantern lighting up her watery eyes and crushed him to her chest. 

Kiyoomi raises his left arm up, where he is metal from his fingertips to where the prosthetic meets his shoulder, "Unfortunately, I was hiding in the territories of two vicious polar bear dogs. Even if the three of them were benders, as the North forced girls to learn healing instead of combat, you can see why they stood no chance.

"It's different now," He clears his throat, "Waterbending and healing is encouraged for everyone. I spent the first year after the attack recovering, living in Ba Sing Se with my cousin where some metalbenders and metal specialists made prototypes after prototypes for my arm."

"That's where you also got those—" Atsumu gestures to his own neck, "—scars, right?"

He nods. With family, he takes the cloth off, but around children, he keeps his scars covered since they shy away from him. He raises a hand and fiddles with the betrothal necklace Atsumu carved.

Atsumu is staring at his neck now, frowning slightly. A stray lock of hair falls into his face. Kiyoomi fidgets, wondering what's running through his head.

"...I see," He finally says, "The princesses died, the North mourned and the only heir left for the Earth Kingdom. It makes sense now."

"I didn't realize you were left in the dark. Our mothers are friends."

"Even if they're friends, I don't think Lady Akemi would be willing to let other nations know about how they went from four heirs to one overnight," Atsumu winces, "Sorry, that was harsh."

Kiyoomi laughs, "The people of the Water Tribe are good at adapting. Don't worry, it was a long time ago."

"I wish I can adapt," Atsumu mumbles, half to himself.

Kiyoomi thinks about the ice shelfs that had stood for centuries, older than his entire family, his entire tribe, imposing and surviving the cruelest conditions.

He can be strong too, as strong as the walls that kept his city safe.

"Did you love him? Kita?"

"More than you'll ever know," Atsumu solemnly says, smiling. Kiyoomi feels his heart twist, sitting next to the boy who he fell for the moment they stood underneath a tree, tossing grapes into the pond, "But Aran is a good person, they'll be happy together."

"I see," He says. They both finish their cup before Kiyoomi staggers to his feet. Atsumu helps him slide into bed, and they both seek the edges, a clear space between them.

They speak some more about the food, the fireworks, and their schedule for tomorrow. Kiyoomi falls asleep last, listening to Atsumu's breathing even out as he thinks about sacrifices one makes for their nation and being strong.

And if he wakes up to Atsumu curled up around him, the morning sun just starting to peek out, he stays still, letting himself be held, glad for fake warmth as he tracks the passing of time by the skies lightening.

He brushes off the apology away from Atsumu when he starts to pull away, keeping his expression blank. Kiyoomi allows him to mourn in the days, watching his husband pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

And he says his goodbyes at the docks, hugging Rin, Osamu and Princess Suzume. Atsumu steps forward to kiss his cheek, shuffling back in line where he'll stay in the Fire Nation until it's spring time.

Kiyoomi returns to the sea. 

He returns to the ice, to his cold home, packing his feelings into a jar and tossing it to the ocean.

* * *

* * *

He sees his fill of the world before his father grows old, checking up on a few friends in Kyoshi Island and dropping by the Air Temples. Once he's given the position of Chief, it'll be near impossible to leave the Northern Water Tribe. 

He visits Ba Sing Se again in the spring, Atsumu tagging along as they make it a visit of pleasure and business. 

Agreements are renewed. Kiyoomi invests his money into metalbending schools, never forgetting about the kindness the Earth Kingdom lent him during his weakest moments. He and Atsumu sit below a cherry blossom tree, the air cool and comforting, and reminisce about their childhood memories.

Atsumu rests his head on Kiyoomi's shoulders. Kiyoomi allows him, leaning into his touch slightly.

The Earth King falls ill. 

Kiyoomi has to leave, he's overextending his stay. Atsumu fights with him, saying it's bad manners.

"I have my duties," He hissed, final and harsh, as Atsumu stood stricken in their shared bedroom.

Kiyoomi blindly swept his things into a trunk, snatched his furs from where it's folded and made his way to the ports, in search of Konoha and his two crewmembers.

He does not sleep for an entire day, stoking the waters with his arms to part, to part for him, for he's the son of the ice and sea.

He returns to his world of white snow and black waters. It is cold but the sun is shining.

He gets to work. He ignores questions about his missing husband, telling them that the Earth Kingdom might have a new king soon. He didn't tell Atsumu to send him a hawk with his return. The implication is right there.

But one morning, when he wakes up with the moon still high, getting dressed to follow the hunters out, giving his harpoon a few experimental slashes, he watches as the sun slowly climb from where it's been simmering on the blood red horizon.

The moon sets. The sun rises.

His cousin smiles, lugging a crate behind him. He's shivering and wearing seven layers of the warmest robes the Earth Kingdom has.

"Idiot," Kiyoomi says, hugging him before abandoning his hunt to find Motoya some furs.

* * *

* * *

"Will you ever tell him?"

Motoya has been drinking the rice wine Rin sent for Kiyoomi. It's in his best interest that he doesn't have another sip, so Kiyoomi tugs the bottle out of his hand and sets it far, far away.

Atsumu did send a hawk. He's tied up with complications, acting as a Fire Nation _and_ Northern Water Tribe diplomat on behalf of his nation and Kiyoomi, he's very sorry he can't make it back in time for the summer.

"No."

Motoya sighs, watching Kiyoomi stream oil out of a small wooden container, rolling the ball and socket joint of his elbow back and forth to lubricate it. There's a fabric cloth on the table, "You're so dumb."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," He grumbles, kicking him underneath the squat table like they're five and squabbling over paints. "He's in love with another, what's the point?"

Motoya is quiet. Perhaps he's in this mood because word has reached their ears that the Earth King has died. 

In the Fire Nation, they cremate their dead. In the Water Tribes, they send the bodies towards the sea, to a land where ice dwells forever on, the cold reclaiming them.

In the Earth Kingdom, they bury their dead. Motoya is probably remembering his father's funeral, quiet.

Kiyoomi considers this, knowing that he hasn't visited the ocean in a very long time with offerings to his sisters. He mourned them for months after waking up with his arm gone, not speaking.

He is strong, like the ancient ice around him, immovable, tall.

* * *

* * *

There's nothing to do during the winter when blizzards whip around the city for days at a time without respite. It's too dangerous to hunt, the oceans are frozen over and the biting cold deters even the bravest of them from stepping out of their huts for long periods of time.

And even worse, because of his metal arm, Kiyoomi cannot go outside for too long or risk frostbite.

They're getting worried. The Fire Prince didn't come back. Is there trouble?

Atsumu didn't return in time before the sea ice froze over. Kiyoomi flips through the Sun Warrior texts left in Atsumu's apartments when he's not stuck in meetings with the Council of Elders. He wakes up feeling empty when he doesn't see Atsumu kicking flames in the ice garden.

If Atsumu wants, Kiyoomi will let him live the rest of his days in the Fire Nation, away from the cold of his home. They can meet up whenever Kiyoomi has business in the Fire Nation.

A firebender will never survive in this cold tundra.

He sighs, staring up at the skies, tugging his hood down. He often comes up to the ice walls to get away, sneaking away from the guards as the northern lights dance and cast their green and blue hues on him.

It's terrible, to pull away a son who just wanted the nation to accept him, who put in so many hours of effort into a tree that bore no fruit.

When the northern lights have winked away, the stars twinkle down.

Tui. Over there is La and the Great Polar Bear, with the Cub beside it. He picks out the twins, and then a Tsungi horn, needing to tilt his head.

He lies down, cushioned by the snow, cold snaking across his face. It's always so quiet here, every sound absorbed, nothing like the Fire Nation where there are always an insect buzzing, birds chirping, thunder rumbling or the ocean crashing nearby.

He sees his cousin off when the oceans starts to break, revealing dark patches of water under its white surface. It's not safe for travel yet, but Kiyoomi sends him off with the most experienced benders, watching the boat become a tiny speck in the horizon.

The sun attempts to rise, weakly, as it always does.

The moon is his companion as he hunts, armed with harpoons as he stands on the back of his buffalo yak. He slots three arrows into his bow, pulling, waiting until the cloud of snow kicked up disappears slightly.

He releases them. The yak goes down. The hunters around him clap and cheer. The drag home their food and Kiyoomi stands by an icy cliff, seeing the sun finally rise, throwing everything around his world in its icy warmth.

Here, in the land of the cold, warmth is hard to come by, but he loves it, he loves the dark seas, the snowcapped mountains, the glaciers far away, the howling of the winds, the bone deep cold that trails after him.

A shoulder brushes against him.

"Morning."

"Atsumu."

"I didn't expect the chief's son to be a sunrise type of person," Atsumu greets, sniffing when his nose runs. He's wearing the dark blue parka that Kiyoomi has been sleeping with in his apartments.

There's a small Fire Nation cruiser docked by the ports. Crates are being loaded off, "How was your trip?"

"It was good. I'm sorry I couldn't come back for the summer."

It's March already then. He turns around to see his husband's face, his amber eyes telling of his nation, his headpiece gleaming.

"Where did you stay?"

"Caldera after I left Ba Sing Se," Atsumu says, looking out into the sea again. Over the horizon, water puffs up, a pack of whales making themselves known. Kiyoomi had hunted them once, though he was safe in the holds of his father's arm as they watched the entire tribe wrangle an old whale, hide marked with scuffs, to shore.

Kiyoomi turns his attention to Atsumu.

"My childhood friend Bokuto had another kid, Gao also got married," His eyes crinkles in a smile, "Happened a week after Lunar New Year. Kita has a son now, cute as a button."

"I see," Kiyoomi wets his mouth, pulling down his mask, "Atsumu, listen."

The sun is bright against their face. Atsumu's eyes, normally amber, almost burns orange, pupils shrinking as his breath comes out in puffs. His smile to Kiyoomi is easy, light.

Looking at him, Kiyoomi thinks of his childhood spent running in the palace courtyards, grass under his feet, chasing after a gap-toothed Rin and climbing trees with Motoya.

Can something so warm survive in a land of ice?

"Do you like it here?"

Atsumu didn't expect that, if the confusion on his face is worth anything, "Why the question?"

"Because I love you," He tells him clearly, "I have been, for almost a decade, ever since we married each other. So if you want to return to the Fire Nation, you can, I'll see you whenever I have business in Caldera. I can manage the tribe by myself."

Atsumu stares at him, mouth opening.

Kiyoomi smiles. He takes a step back away from the edge of the cliff, hearing the way the ocean stirs angrily in his wake. He's no Avatar and it's pure coincidence when the sun hides behind a cloud layer.

"I thought you should know," He says over his shoulder, leaving Atsumu.

The glaciers will continue to stand, a stark wall of ice among the dark oceans and whipping winds. 

Kiyoomi is a waterbender, he will adapt and survive.

* * *

* * *

Moons pass. His father falls ill but he remains strong, never five meters away from Master Hana.

Kiyoomi turns thirty-five. He keeps trades relations with the Earth Kingdom and Air Nomads as best as he can, visiting the Fire Nation as part of his duty, sitting patiently with Atsumu at his side as they get their portraits painted, joining the countless canvases lining the east hallways. He wears robes of white when the Fire Lord passes, and bows his head for Osamu's coronation.

Atsumu leaves when the seas start to freeze. You can take the prince from his birthland, but you cannot take the love he has away. He will forever love the Fire Nation slightly more than the North.

But he always comes back on spring equinox like clockwork, like the rise of the moon and sun, like the seasons shifting, like the schools of fish that appear at the coasts and the whales that migrate from the poles to the equator.

Kiyoomi opens his eyes to a pair of amber eyes blinking softly at him, several strands of grey in Atsumu's black hair. The betrothal necklace Kiyoomi carved for him two winters ago glint in the weak sunlight.

When they kiss, Atsumu tastes like pomegranate and the sea.

"I'm home, love," He grins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~i had a lot of lingering thoughts about prince atsumu but somehow i've muddled too much and this is now a mess, but an enjoyable one i hope~~ **edit 01/25/21: fuck i am so sorry i forgot to tag for graphic violence**
> 
> cw: mentions of assassination/poisons, mentions/description of drowning*, graphic description of violence
> 
> *to skip drowning descriptions, ignore paragraphs that start with "he can't see" and "he does not dream of"
> 
> to immune, enabler of all brainrot. congratulations on your success!

"They don't like grass."

The boy wearing sky blue robes, hair tied up in a wolf's tail with the curls puffing in the heat, turns. 

Atsumu pulls a bunch of grapes from his robes, coming up to the mysterious blue-clothed boy with beads weaved into his hair. It's clear that this is the son of Lady Akemi. His eyes aren't blue like the waterbenders working in the palace, they're a brown so dark they appear black, his half Earth Kingdom lineage showing.

Atsumu grabs the boy's palm and drops several grapes.

"Try that instead."

The boy stares at the family of turtle ducks as one particular male bravely nibbles on the toe of his boots, spinning around in a circle. Their soft quacks fade away as they dive into the water, seizing the fruits before resurfacing and shaking the water off their fuzzy heads.

Atsumu hears a delighted laugh.

"Prince Atsumu? Prince Atsumu!"

"Shinsuke!" Atsumu whirls around as Kita peers around the corner and looks at him with relief, striding forward, "Why are you here? We're all meeting in the chrysanthemum gardens, aren't we?"

"Everyone thinks you're lost," Kita chides gently, "Come, I'll lead you to Princess Suzume."

"Wait! We also have to bring—" Atsumu whirls around, intending to pull Lady Akemi's son into view so he can introduce his new friend with his oldest friend because that's what good diplomats do, pausing when there is no boy at the edge of the pond.

Atsumu takes a step forward, feeling the sun strike the back of his neck, knowing there are strands coming down from his topknot, sticking to his skin. Not even his footprints remain. He's suddenly aware of how much warmer it is, away from the shadows of the wisteria tree.

"He's gone."

The ducks have gone to hide in the far corner, peeking out from some reeds and bushes.

"Who?"

"The prince of the Northern Water Tribe," Atsumu says, confused, "He was just here."

* * *

* * *

_i. one heir, one spare_

He gazes at the Fire Nation, hands firmly secured on the railings, a guard hovering nearby to make sure he doesn't go flying overboard.

He'd accompanied his mother to the Northern Air Temples for a visit. When he is older, he'll learn that he and his brother had been removed from the castle as the security team flushes out an assassination attempt on their lives, but by then, he'll be accustomed to death as he brushes with the spirit world once or twice a year from poisons he'd grow tolerance to.

Smaller islands come into view, the sky lifting from a midnight blue as the sun rises. He sees candlelight from houses, citizens waking up and going off to till their fields in the darkness, baskets strapped to their back.

"Tsumu? What are you doing here?"

Atsumu turns to see his brother sniffle, their mother's coat draped over his shoulders and trailing after him. On her, it reaches her knees. On his brother, it looks like he's being swallowed. There's an orange ribbon around his wrist.

Atsumu always wraps his red ribbon around his left wrist, making sure that when attendants come their way, he has it on display.

(There is a game they like to play with the palace staff, wondering if they can tell which is which when the ribbons are hidden. Mother looks skyward every time the staff flail and apologizes for mistaking them. Father's laugh is the brightest of them all)

He's broken out of his trance as Osamu sneezes.

Atsumu immediately tugs the cloak tighter around his body as Osamu squirms. 

His brother always caught colds more easily between the two of them. Atsumu feels a pang of guilt. He'd ran Osamu ragged as they chased after airbenders in training while their mother asked about the principles of gliding for the newest airships that are being built with one of the monks.

"What are you doing?" Osamu asks again.

"Watching the Fire Nation."

They're quiet for several moments. Atsumu grips the railings firmly, keeping an eye on Osamu from the corner of his eyes.

They get along well, but after everyone found out they've showed signs of bending, whispers started bleeding from the coastal towns, taking with it assumptions of who would be the more favoured prince in the Fire Lord's eyes.

They pass small islets until the ship hugs towering cliffs. Fisherman and farmers by the coast bow their heads when they catch the flag whipping in the wind, all the way up on the flagpole.

He thinks about who will own all of this— the simmering volcanoes, the warm shallows and tide pools where sea life blooms, the fertile emerald fields stretching for miles onward, the lives of people who love their home.

He thinks of Kita, weaving a flower crown for him and braiding an ear of wheat into it, how he didn't resist when Atsumu and Osamu tacked him into the mud before his mother caught sight of them and ordered them to be hosed down before they tracked dirt inside.

"Father says it'll be ours one day," Osamu says, voice nearly lost in the wind.

Atsumu gazes at the looming statue of Azulon, the inactive volcano where Caldera sits and the docks coming into view. 

All of this, theirs.

Atsumu doesn't ask his twin if he wants to be Fire Lord. He already knows the answer, knowing his fake enthusiasm for worldly politics and the longing glances he gives when their mother takes them out of the palace and into the city for tea.

There had been siblings who rule together before. Fire Lord Ayame and her brother Arata, Fire Lord Takei and his younger brother Kazuo.

Their names will just be the first of many.

Atsumu presses his shoulders to Osamu, immediately smiling when Osamu puts his hands on the rails, their palms side by side.

* * *

* * *

They return to one of the worst draughts crippling the nation.

The sentries by the gates are weary, dust lines every surface no matter how often the staff cleans. The royal gardens and his mother's flowers and bushes wither away. The green island turns brown.

People whisper of angry gods, heatstrokes and famines. Crops wilt. Rivers and wells have long gone dry and Atsumu would wake up at night, unable to sleep in the suppressing heat, to see his father pace around the war room, surrounded by generals as they point at maps to distribute water from the little that remain of the capital reserves.

So he is frozen, remembering a boy with cool fingers and beads weaved into his hair, the way his neck had shone with sweat as his grandfather's voice rings throughout the square.

The rites of his son's passing echoes in the largest courtyard of the city.

Atsumu does not cry, standing in the line of royals in front of the casket as the drumming reaches a climax and looking at the ground with a certain numbness he can't explain. The incense is thick. smothering him, cloaking him. He merely watches as the Head Fire Sage, his mother and grandfather punches forward, flames shooting out of their fists to cover his father.

The very air wails. Above, the sun rages.

With the fire licking his face, he finds Osamu's fingers clutching his and squeezes it, head bowed, thinking of the man who shielded him from his grandfather's temper, wanting to cry out the moment the courtyard voices their loss.

But he has no voice left. A croak barely passes his mouth.

In the heat, the Fire Nation loses a prince.

In the heat, the Crown Prince headpiece is speared through Osamu's topknot as their father burns.

* * *

* * *

It is much later, after his father's body has been reduced to ashes and swept into one large urn and three smaller ones, that Atsumu rises from the kneeling position with shaky legs.

His grandfather pulls him aside.

His twin is hugging their mother, his white robed arms around her waist as she follows the Head Fire Sage out of the square. They bore matching expressions of someone who cried so much there aren't tears to spare anymore. The clouds above are dark. The air smells like ozone and a loss.

" _Wipe those tears, boy. Princes don't cry._ "

The people of the Fire Nation have light coloured eyes. His firebending master's eyes are a warm brown, his mother's eyes are the same shade of honey as his and his father has deep dark ones that reminds Atsumu of the pine barks that grow in the outskirts of the capitol. Honey, caramel and wood remind him of his family.

But as he looks into his grandfather's eyes, there is only disgust. Atsumu feels his cheeks becoming wet.

When the first strike of thunder booms, the rainclouds finally break.

The parched land drinks its fill and Atsumu watches as his grandfather walks away from him.

* * *

* * *

"Crown Prince Osamu, it's time for etiquette lessons."

Atsumu turns his head, the wooden sword slapping against his thigh. Osamu whips his head back and forth between him and one of the palace advisors.

"That's not until after lunch. And why aren't you addressing my brother?"

Advisor Kuroo tries to summon a bright smile, "Prince Atsumu's schedule is slightly different than yours," He bows, "If you'll follow me, I'll lead you back to the Wisteria Gardens. Lady Fumiko is waiting for you."

"But what about Tsu—"

"Just go, Samu!" Atsumu hisses, throwing to the side the wooden sword. 

He hates this. He hates the wandering eyes, the sympathizing simpering of the court, the _pity_. 

Immediately, the guards by the doors spring aside as he marches forward, opening it so he can step out of the sun.

Osamu yelps. 

Atsumu turns on instinct, seeing that he's tripped over an uneven tile sticking out in the training gardens. The bottom of his chin is scuffed and bleeding. There's a rip in his tunic.

Advisor Kuroo calls for a waterbender to run here. Atsumu turns away and retreats into the cool, large hallways as the door slams shut between them. When he returns to his rooms, the first thing he does is unraveling the red ribbon around his wrist, locking it in his jewelry chest.

Anyone can tell the difference between them now.

* * *

* * *

He reads up on the history of his nation, from scholars to personal diaries of his ancestors. When his head is swimming full of facts about the Camellia-Peony War and Sozin's Comet, he wakes up to someone organizing the giant books in front of him.

"Eat, Tsumu."

There are three rice balls and some sweets on a lacquered tray. The tea is still warm and they're alone.

Kita's profile is backlit by the sunset as Atsumu watches him move scrolls to the side, his skin golden, mouth the same color as the tea roses in his mother's gardens.

"Eat," Kita chides again gently.

He spends more time in the library. Away from the whispers of the court and pitying glances of the sons and daughters of nobles and ministers, Kita becomes his safe haven.

Osamu may be Crown Prince but it doesn't mean that the crown can't be taken away. Atsumu furiously works his tutors to death, eager and snapping up knowledge like a dragon hoarding jewels. His grandfather doesn't know what he's gotten Osamu into, how can his little brother rule the country one day when he has zero self-discipline?

"You should sleep, it's getting late."

Kita again. Atsumu rubs his eyes with one hand as he places his brush to the side, watching the ink slowly dry in the candlelight, "Mmm."

"...This is from the textbook the mathematician Lee wrote," Kita peers at the book next to him. He doesn't frown, but the light disbelief in his voice is present, "This is two grades above what the children in the Royal Academy are learning."

"Lady Tanaka said the Earth Kingdom are currently installing a telescope that would enable them to study the stars and sky, and it would be a good chance for me to learn spherical trigonometry used in astronomical calculations, as well as how to navigate the seas by looking at stars alone."

Kita doesn't ask if this is necessary. He'd asked once and Atsumu had told him this is what princes learn.

"Will you be visiting the Earth Kingdom then?"

"No," He looks away, "...I'm to start my army training soon. Most princes are generals when they ascend to the throne."

Kita's amber eyes flit between the tethering pile of books and the drying ink. 

He's four years older than Atsumu, but Atsumu had only known gentleness since the day Princess Suzume encouraged him to say hello to the palace's youngest historian in training.

"When the day comes," Kita says, "Please be careful."

* * *

* * *

With his father gone, his mother takes over his duties. They don't see her much anymore as she hops from boat to boat, disappearing for weeks on end as a traveling diplomat.

When she asked if he wanted to join her, her soothing voice painting the scenery of plum blossoms blooming in the Northern Air Temples, he thought about thirteen entire days on a boat with her, smiling and opening his mouth to agree before—

Before remembering.

He is a prince. Princes have duties.

He shakes his head instead, bowing his head in apology.

When he lifts his head out of the bow, his mother only strokes his cheeks and tells him not to terrorize the palace cooks, sweeping a black cloak over her robes.

And if being a prince is the loneliest thing he's ever done, he doesn't complain, watching her carriage become smaller and smaller as he stands by the front gates.

* * *

* * *

When she has a chance, Princess Suzume meets with her sons individually, wanting to make sure she spends all of her attention onto one child at a time. Atsumu likes this, still remembering the way he has to fight for his mother's and father's attention when Osamu inevitably gets a summer cold like he always does every year.

Today, he recites to her the various things his tutors have taught him during her trip to the Southern Water Tribe.

"You don't need to rush towards adulthood, my little dragon."

He clutches his teacup. Atsumu had returned from basic training yesterday and he's sore in places he didn't think he could be sore. There's a pipa next to him. He'd played her the hardest song he could, "But I want to grow up!"

She weaves back a stray lock of hair behind his ear, mouth unhappy.

* * *

* * *

He's seventeen when his life starts to fall apart. Or maybe it had been falling apart beforehand, but he'd closed his eyes and pretend not to see.

_Why is no one acknowledging me? Have I not done enough?_

"I'm a captain now," He declares, another Friday morning spent in his mother's apartments. The sliding doors are parted open. There is a gentle sprinkle of summer rain, watering the grass, the cracked earth. 

It's the season of plum rain. The very season that was absent years ago when his father died.

Her eyes doesn't stray to the certificate he pushes in front of her. She looks unhappily at his royal armor and sips her tea. Atsumu hurries suit, nearly burning his tongue on his favorite cinnamon and clove blend, something only his mother knows he likes.

"But do you enjoy it, my son?"

There is a difference between doing things for enjoyment and duty. Everything he's done is for the latter. He tells her such.

Royalty like them, they don't have the pleasure of doing things out of enjoyment. 

" _Praises and titles leak through the tightest baskets like water_ ," She quotes at him. There's grey in her hair now. With a start, Atsumu realizes he's only one year away from being the same age as his mother when she was engaged to his father, " _For the man who chases will soon realize he is empty._ "

He frowns.

"To whom do you show your worth for, dear?" He's never seen her so sad. 

Atsumu gapes wordlessly for several seconds, something his etiquette teacher would've rapped him on the wrist for.

His excuse is flimsy, "F-For the Fire Nation! For Samu! He doesn't want to be Fire Lord, you know this, he's a terrible fit—"

" _Atsumu_."

"—It's true! He has no love for laws and international policies, but I'm willing to take that on for him and rule together like Father once said we would! Like the story of Fire Lord Ayame and her brother Arata!"

"While we are princes and princesses, we must not forget that a nation will not survive if we are constantly doing things we do not enjoy. We must take care of ourselves in the process."

"Yes, yes, I know! You told me many times that's why you garden and why Father likes tea."

"And when was the last time you did something for your own enjoyment, Atsumu?"

He doesn't answer. He looks down at his hands folded in his lap, staring at the newly polished royal armor on his forearms, feeling the stiff leather mold to his body.

"I'll do that when I have the crown."

His mother frowns at him. He excuses himself, taking the certificate away and standing outside the doors of her rooms. He waits several beats until he hears his mother's voice speak into the room, knowing that she's talking to her personal bodyguard.

In the hallway, he cups a fireball in his palm and allows the flames to lick the edges of the paper.

* * *

* * *

_"I should've been Crown Prince!"_

The birds flap away. Atsumu pants as he points the sword tip under his brother's unprotected neck, the sun right above them.

It is winter. The air is cool.

Osamu doesn't correct him. He only brings a hand up to push away the sword. Atsumu feels disgust all of the sudden, remembering how they slept in the same bed since they were born and had trouble sleeping in their own rooms when they turned five. 

He remembers their orange and red ribbons, being traded back and forth as the chef slid them extra servings of mango pudding with winks. He remembers their wooden swords, remembers how they played with the other sons and daughters of world leaders and nobles and how they both tackled Kita into a mud hole and gotten an earful from Princess Suzume when they tracked mud inside the palace.

The wish to rule together is a childhood fantasy. Atsumu doesn't help his brother get to his feet, breathing out smoke as the sun partially hides behind a cloud. He can see worried guards hovering nearby, ready to step in and separate them.

Osamu ignores him, walking forward to grab his sword from where Atsumu had knocked it out of his hands.

When he turns to face Atsumu, ready for another round, Atsumu stalks away, knowing that there's no one in the palace who can best him.

It is lonely, being a prince.

* * *

* * *

His firebending teacher doesn't comment when Atsumu flies to the ground, fingertips scorched when he attempts lightning generation.

This is the first time he tasted defeat.

"It is too advanced for your current skillset, Prince Atsumu."

Atsumu leaps up from the ground, ignoring his singed fingers and how they start to throb with the familiar feeling of burned flesh. He gives his fingers a linger look, "Just one more time! I know I can master it, I've separate the positive and negative charges—"

"Another day," He soothes, "Lightning generation is not part of firebending mastery, there is no rush."

Atsumu argues with him. Kurosu gives him an indiscernible look, standing off to the side of the courtyard with its dying grass and hot, dusty stone tiles, hands behind his back.

He closes his mouth and thanks him for the day's lesson. He is a prince.

Princes do not cry in public or have tantrums.

The lightning can wait. He heads to the archives, looking for his favorite historian-in-training before he's to be sent back to the barracks. He lets himself be comforted with Kita's quiet, steady presence.

* * *

* * *

Osamu announces his feelings for Rin to the family.

The Sunas are a good family. They're not within the noble circles nor are they poor. They're a middle class family of merchants. Suna knows much more about trades within the country and smaller islands than Atsumu does since he's focused his studies on the four nations.

There's no reason why the Fire Lord would refuse Osamu. If anything, it's an advantageous match.

Atsumu stands off to the side of the throne room with his mother as the Fire Lord gazes at the couple through the wall of fire. 

He'd come to his grandfather with his family like they do every month for their one hour meeting, the certificate that celebrates his status of being the youngest Lieutenant of the Fire Nation crumpled in his hands.

Despite the flames licking one side of his face, he feels cold all over, half-hidden in the shadows, wondering if he can simply melt into the wall and disappear.

He casts a longing glance to the sea.

* * *

* * *

"I heard about your brother's engagement."

Kita doesn't call Osamu the Crown Prince when they're alone.

Atsumu continues to stroke Kero's neck. He's had his Komodo rhino since he was tall enough to ride it, feeling the sun from her black scales as she makes a raspy, humming noise.

The seas lap their feet. The water is burnt red, matching the sunset above as he turns to Kita, "Who told you I was here?"

"No one," Kita closes his eyes, letting the dipping sun sink into his skin. When he speaks, his voice is gentle, "Give me credit, Atsumu, I've known you for a decade and a half."

Atsumu stares at the sands, the way it sticks to Kero's claws as her tail swings happily from side to side. The family who has a house near the cliffs politely turn a blind eye whenever he comes and he's thankful for their silence, reminding himself to bring them something next time, "It's peaceful here, away from the palace."

They both stare at the water until the sun sinks. Atsumu thinks about the distance between them, wanting to shrink it until he could stand next to Kita side by side.

"There's something I want to tell you when I return," Atsumu looks at the moon's reflection on the waves, "Will you wait?"

When he turns his head, Kita nods. 

* * *

* * *

He spends four years away at sea for his navy training. He learns how to command ships, fix engines and lead fleets.

He wakes up every morning with salt in his nose, the gulls' cries in his ears as he greets dawn like a friend, the wide blue sky above him a reprieve from the wall of fire in the war room that threatens to consume him whole.

Away from court vipers and poisoned teas, he takes a deep breath and re-evaluates his life. He tentatively writes a letter to his brother about the six-headed serpent-squid they ran into.

Osamu writes back enthusiastically, his writing messy and illegible in some parts, but Atsumu clutches the letter with tight fingers like it's made out iridescent dragon egg shells. He says that he wants to see it one day, it's boring here without him, does he have book recommendations to read up on regarding the water well problems in the southern provinces?

Atsumu nearly runs into one of his crewmen as he sprints out of the mail room, hurrying back to his quarters for ink and paper.

The sea is good. Water has always been kind to him, healing him from the numerous burns and bruises he receives from training, raining down on the soils that feed his people, bringing relief to summer's coiling grip.

The letters are steady. Osamu moans and gripes about court drama and their favorite chef's new dishes. His mother managed to coax a rare breed of roses to bloom in her gardens and has enclosed some velvet petals in the envelope. Kita found a new book shop that carries his favorite stories.

_There will be a new copy of One Thousand and One Suns in your bedchambers when you return. I hope you are still fond of the_ _stories of the first dragons._

_Best,  
_ _Kita_

When he invites Master Kurosu on board, he completes the last of his firebending mastery under the the watch and cheers of his crewmen, the skies blood red and the sun a golden orb shimmering as it sinks into the water, the ocean shifting from maroon to dark blue.

Osamu writes his congratulations. Atsumu stares at the volcano crater in the distance, knowing that somewhere behind the rock wall, Osamu is eagerly waiting for him to come back. He wants to talk to his brother again after years of exchanging looks and frowns at him across the palace.

He is twenty when he reconciles with his brother.

He is twenty-one when he starts receiving offers of marriage with letters from home.

He is twenty-two when he returns, the Fire Lord using him like a bargaining chip.

* * *

* * *

He marches straight to the throne room the moment he dismounts Kero. Someone unclips his traveling cloak and he spreads his arms out as attendants strap royal armor to his forearms, the leather shiny and black.

He faces the giant doors and nods at the guard posted outside to announce him, wiping away a smear of mud on his cheek as the heavy doors part.

If the sudden heat from the room nearly chars his skin, he doesn't let it show. He marches straight to the imposing silhouette behind the fire wall and bows, waiting.

"Take a seat, Prince Atsumu."

Atsumu settles beside his brother as his grandfather clears his throat.

"The North has extended a helping hand," The Fire Lord says, "We cannot go on in this manner. The five hurricanes that hit us have nearly depleted all of our emergency supplies. The food reserves will not last more than a week at this point and the armies are spread thin trying to rebuild villages and provide fresh water."

Atsumu knew exactly how powerful the hurricanes were. He'd swallowed more seawater in the past week trying to fish his crew out among the wreckage than he had his entire life.

"That is relieving to hear," His mother says, on the other side of Osamu. Atsumu flickers his eyes at her, knowing that after this meeting is over, they're to separate and take their own men and women into the provinces that's been hit the worst.

His mother's hands are soft. It's been a long time since she participated in military exercises; a little sprout of worry blooms under his ribs. Osamu hasn't participated in many as well.

"Which is exactly why," The Fire Lord says, voice cold, "Atsumu is to marry the Chief's son."

The throne room is silent. The wall of fire crackles.

Atsumu stares at the pattern of the wood below him, seeing the reflection of the fire in his eyes, listening to his brother's voice increase in pitch.

He knows it. He knows in his bones that he's lost whatever game he bought himself into.

" _But Grandfather!—_ "

"An offer like this, an offer where the North has promised us food, men and a trade agreement is too good to be true. I do not want them going back on their word. The son hasn't been married off yet."

Atsumu lifts his head up, looking into the wall of fire, feeling no love for the man in front of him, no loyalty. 

He thinks of the letters he kept between his robes, bypassing his room out of duty the moment he arrived even though the first thing he wanted to do was to flip through his new copy of _One Thousand and One Suns_ and catch up with his brother.

He is nine years old again, looking up into a pair of eyes with the black clouds above, the air smelling like ozone. He is powerless, a tiny being in the ocean of orders and tradition that he can't overcome.

His throat sears from the dry air he's breathing in, burning him from the inside.

The shadow of his grandfather continues, "They cannot go back on their word or else our nation will crumble."

* * *

* * *

_"This is for the good of the nation, Prince Atsumu."_

* * *

* * *

_ii. don't melt in my fever, glacier boy_

He is sent to the Jang Hui Province with his men. Between rebuilding the village and counting down the days until he has to return, he carves a pattern onto a stone under the watchful gaze of the moon, leaning on Kero as she wraps her tail around him.

When he returns to the palace, he takes a new komodo rhino from the stables and sneaks out to the sea, ignoring the burn on his neck that should be looked at.

He knew from a young age the chances of him being Fire Lord will be slim. Yet he doesn't know if the path he chose— to remain in people's memories by making sure everyone knows his name for being the first firebending master between his brother and he, becoming a master of trade laws better than the sons and daughters of merchants who have been doing this for generations, climbing through military ranks— was worth it.

Who will his people remember when he leaves for the ice?

He punches forward, steam bursting on the beach as he taps into blind rage. It's always Osamu who gets the better end of the stick— endless attention from palace physicians and waterbenders when he turns sickly, the title of Crown Prince, future Fire Lord, he can marry anyone he chooses, and what does Atsumu get?

Why couldn't he be granted some of that too?

He stares at the ocean, boots discarded aside. The water still retains the heat of the day and his toes are warm as the tide slowly recedes.

Of course it's Kita who finds him.

"Prince Atsumu."

There are foreign sails coming closer and closer on the horizon. By their speed, they will dock in an hour. Perhaps less, depending on the number of waterbenders on the ship. Two smaller ones behind the first one follow, full of relief supplies.

His letters are still tucked between his robe and armor. 

Despite the sun setting, he's livid, exhaling smoke and spitting sparks.

_"_ _You used to call me 'Atsumu!'"_

His voice is lost in the crash of the waves.

Atsumu thinks about Kita who snuck out with him before Atsumu showed signs of firebending, before his father died and Osamu became Crown Prince, who made sure he didn't live in the library, who believed in him.

He takes a deep inhale, still facing the sea, all of his anger vanishing like steam. His people need the supplies on the boat.

He whispers weakly, "I'm supposed to be the Crown Prince. I'm supposed to help my people."

They were supposed to be ruling brothers, covering each other's weaknesses and making their father proud.

Kita was always gentle, even when Atsumu and Osamu spilled a pot of ink on his favorite scrolls when they were little, "I'm sorry."

Atsumu swallows disappointment, turning his back to the sun and climbing onto his komodo rhino. Kita wordlessly follows on his own mount, their return silent until he passes the front gates with attendants swarming all around him.

Atsumu hides a smile as hands remove his armor, pulling at his dusty outer robes and giving him new ones.

Because he'd ran off, his grandfather had let the guests wander around the palace. Atsumu is sent off with a task to round them up.

But where would a waterbender be? He looks at the hallways he used to call home, wondering if they ever felt this foreign to him after spending four years away.

The Fire Nation is happy for Osamu and Suna. His mother has her ladies in waiting and friends to entertain. His grandfather will get what he always wanted— a chance to rebuild the country while passing his grandson off to the North. Who is he without the Fire Nation? Without his headpiece?

There is nothing left for Atsumu here.

He swallows, thinking of blistering summers, cold watermelons he and Osamu snuck out of the basement when they were four and oblivious to their futures, to the sight of his room decked in reds, oranges, yellows of the morning sun, the bright green grass shining with dew, the octane blue skies at the height of summer with giant fluffy clouds hovering above.

All those hours he spent in the courtyard, sweat dripping down onto the stones and sand, trying to be better. How many hours did he spend in the library with a crick in his neck, studying ancient texts, finances and the laws that governed the volcanic island to prove his worth?

All of it, bearing no fruit.

His feet carry him to the turtle duck gardens. The sentries by the entrance bow quickly at him before turning their attention away. 

Atsumu blinks.

There is a tall man in dark blue robes near the water's edge, tossing grapes to the turtle ducks by his feet.

* * *

* * *

He automatically wakes up to the sun, wondering why he felt like he'd been trampled on by Kero when he remembers the bandit attack yesterday on his way home and sits up, sheets falling to his waist.

It comes back to him. A kiss shared between strangers, a metal arm, fireworks, Kita giving him his regards, his brother and Rin spinning in the courtyard, Lady Akemi's smile.

And he remembers the heat from one human hand as the Head Fire Sage wrapped their hands together in a ribbon, both of them repeating vows. And much later, when they stripped their robes off and he saw that the metal hand extended into a forearm, into an arm, into a socket that met human shoulders.

Over in the corner, cloaked in darkness with a slice of the morning sun illuminating the silver scars on his throat, is a sleeping prince.

Atsumu picks him up and tucks him into bed. Then, he quietly slips out of his apartments, heading for the war room where he's to receive further instructions, momentarily becoming a prince of fire once more.

He'll hold onto it even temporarily, wanting to feel the sun again on his skin.

* * *

* * *

The prince of the Northern Water Tribe wishes to speak with him privately before he has to leave.

Atsumu patiently waits as he instructs his men— three waterbenders— and his mother to go to the ship first, speaking in low, firm tones that he'll follow them soon. Once they're alone in the entrance hall, Atsumu allows his legs to lead them to his mother's gardens.

They come up to a familiar wisteria tree, its purple, dangling branches sweeping the surface of the water.

"For some reason," Kiyoomi says, walking forward in thin, dark blue robes, the ruby earrings he wore yesterday returned to Princess Suzume, "I thought this tree would be taller."

"Things look taller and larger when we were little," Atsumu tells him before showing the turtle ducks that races out of the reeds his empty hands, "No grapes today."

They shouldn't understand human speech, but one seems to quack angrily at him, showing him its shell as they all scuttle back to the reeds. When Atsumu looks up, Kiyoomi's mouth is vaguely lifted and the sky blue stone he carved gleams from where it hangs on the dark blue ribbon around his throat.

"What did you want to speak about?"

Kiyoomi stares at the water for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

He doesn't know much about why the Northern Water Tribe suddenly cut off communications with the rest of the world several years ago, but they've recently opened up their borders again.

At the core, Kiyoomi is a stranger Atsumu was forced to marry. For the good of his country yes, but Atsumu has no inkling on what he wanted to say.

"I want to let you know that you can take on a lover."

Atsumu stares at him, watching the last duck retreat into the reeds. He slowly turns around, so taken back he doesn't know what to say.

Kiyoomi goes on.

"I realize you were pulled into a political marriage without choice. So during the rebuilding effort where you're to remain here temporarily, I wouldn't mind. If you happen to find someone in the tribe, feel free to pursue them. I only ask that you be discreet."

"There's—" Atsumu splutters, mind racing, "Do _you_ have a lover? Is that why you're telling me this?"

"I don't have a lover, no." 

"There's no need for all of—" Atsumu flaps his hand around, exasperated. His mother would personally throw him over the palace walls if she ever caught wind of him sneaking around a marriage, "— _Why_ would you ever think of this?"

Kiyoomi's eyes are guarded. He doesn't say anything except to turn in the direction of the front gates when a specific horn blows, claiming that it's his crew. 

He gives Atsumu a deep bow, hair waving in the wind, before walking away, back straight.

* * *

* * *

He says his goodbyes slowly throughout the year.

In every province he visits with waterbenders loaned to them from the North, he takes a little time aside for himself to trail a hand on the bark of a tree, to commit to memory the feeling of grass under his feet, the smell of wildflowers in the air, the rows of golden wheat stretching onwards, like a sea of gold.

But always, whenever his muscles ache and he's one breath away from falling asleep, he thinks back to Kiyoomi's last words to him.

He asks Master Kurosu for one last lightning demonstration, but he fails yet again, flying back and getting the wind knocked out of him.

"A clear mind often helps with lightning generation."

Atsumu had a nightmare that his grandfather had casted him out of the palace walls as a baby for being too weak.

"My mind _is_ clear."

Kurosu does not say anything.

His mother hugs him goodbye in her apartments. He buries his nose into her robes longer than protocol demands, knowing that she'll be fine here, like she always had been ever since his father passed.

Her voice wobbles when he finally releases her, "We will send you letters."

"Of course," He nods robotically, "I look forward to receiving them."

He doesn't want her at the docks. He doesn't want to see her cry.

His twin, predictably, has watery eyes. 

Despite their relationship souring throughout the years, Atsumu feels the wings of a small bird flutter in his chest, tugging his brother forward and burying his nose into his neck. He swallows the ball forming in his throat, something prickling his eyes.

"I really wanted to show you the serpent-squid."

Osamu shrugs, voice thick, "It's okay. You can come back to visit anytime."

" _Ow_ , you're crushing my lungs."

"You don't even have to contact us or anything. Special permission."

"I'm your fucking brother, I don't need permission."

Atsumu squeezes his twin one last time before stepping away, trying to memorize his face like it's not an exact copy of the one he sees every morning when he shaves.

Except they won't be able to see each other anymore. Who knows when he'll have time to visit the Fire Nation? He flutters his eyes, closing them and trying to remember his slow goodbyes throughout the year.

The skies are octane blue. The clouds are fluffy. The sun shines brightly on him for he is a son of Agni. How cruel, the world giving him the best Fire Nation views on the day he's supposed to leave.

He peels off Osamu's fingers from where they're hooked tightly around his red and black robes.

Atsumu watches as his home becomes a tiny speck in the distance until there is no more, the ocean swallowing everything. He grips the hand rails tightly. 

No one will save him now if he falls abroad. 

* * *

* * *

They give him his own apartments. The floors are not made out of ice but a type of stone, rugs cover every inch of his rooms, there is a giant pile of blankets on his bed and the walls are bare. There's not a trace of Water Tribe insignia anywhere aside from the light blue sheets.

Kiyoomi shows him how to draw a bath from the Water Tribe's plumbing system. When Atsumu asks what the mysterious door near the back is for, Kiyoomi hesitates.

"It's a door to my room."

"Oh. We're sharing?"

"No, I have my own. The palace is just built like this," Kiyoomi guides him out of the bathroom with pink ears, "I won't use the door unless you want me too."

Atsumu nods, relieved that they don't have to share a room. They're not friends yet.

After an hour, they collapse by the fireplace in the living room overlooking the ice gardens.

"I apologize, that must have been draining."

Everyone is still rushing around outside, even the Chief and Lady Akemi, but Kiyoomi must've had permission to sit out and help him settle in. Summer, he remembers from his scrolls, is the busiest season up north.

Atsumu notices that his tea turns cooler quickly. He heats it back up without second thought, steam warming his nose, "Why are you saying that?"

"The tour must've been overwhelming."

"It's not."

Their conversation cuts short. Atsumu glances towards the fire, hypnotized by the way the flames dance.

He remembers being little, sleeping next to Osamu and his mother as his father spoke of tales, of how the four elements are needed. There is fire in the deepest, coldest poles, there is water in the land of fire, and there is air and earth between here and anywhere.

"You don't need to lie."

He tears his eyes away and looks at Kiyoomi.

The prince of the Northern Water Tribe repeats himself softly, looking out the windows. They've been installed recently, a fact Kiyoomi told him during their tour of the palace, "You don't need to act like that around me... like you're happy to be here. I know you're not."

He pours Atsumu more tea. It's on his second cup that Atsumu realizes that there are fire lily petals, short barks of cinnamon and cloves in his cup.

Then he looks carefully at their tea service, the little wooden box of fire flakes sitting nearby, the bowl of toasted and spiced nuts on a black lacquered tray that he knows comes from a specific chain of teahouses outside the palace grounds.

Atsumu never told him his love for cinnamon and cloves. 

"Why?"

Kiyoomi takes a sip of tea, "Why what?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" _Why did you tell me I can court someone even though we're married to each other? Why did you ask my mother what my favorite tea is?_

"Because you don't need to pretend or hide here," His eyes are old when he says this, the childish roundness momentarily disappearing, "Here in the land of ice, the frigid winds will shelter your secrets and cloak you."

Those words trigger a memory. Atsumu sings the lullaby his mother used to hum when they were all small and napped together in the nursery, watching Kiyoomi's eyes widen.

"Did I get the melody right?"

Kiyoomi hums, "Not exactly."

"Sing for me then."

Kiyoomi obliges. Atsumu pours him more tea as his sweet voice tumbles like a river flowing down gentle slopes.

When Atsumu sends his first letter off, full of descriptions of the icy cliffs, the shocking cold and the warmth the Chief's family had shown, he prays that the fire hawk returns soon.

* * *

* * *

Kiyoomi is by his side for the first week Atsumu settles in, something he's sure Lady Akemi and the Chief put him up to. 

It's unnecessary, but appreciated. The first day Atsumu woke up without Advisor Kuroo rattling off to him of his schedule, he sat in his bed, unsure of what to do until Kiyoomi knocked.

They had breakfast and Kiyoomi showed him around the city in a circular fashion, pointing out the same places— the three different hospitals, market square, various waterbending schools, healing huts, town hall, libraries, ice parks, the docks and the two lighthouses in the distance— over and over again until Atsumu was able to lead him around on the fourth morning.

They're watching waterbenders bring in a ship from the Earth Kingdom through the canal channels as Kiyoomi explains to him that every building in the North are elevated on several inches of steel beams driven deep into the ground. It protects against the heat inside the homes as thawed permafrost would sink buildings.

They go back and forth about buildings and ships until Atsumu realizes that some of the waterbenders are staring at him.

Immediately, he gives them a tight smile, keeping his hands folded behind his back. It takes him completely by surprise when one of the younger waterbenders closest to them waves enthusiastically and yells at Kiyoomi.

"Hey Kiyoomi, guess your husband finally came home! When is mine going to come back?"

Kiyoomi grins, "One more month!"

He's used to being looked at, being judged at, but the lingering stares here aren't like the ones he experienced at home. Here, he is not a prince fighting for a crown, but a prince's husband. Atsumu hesitantly returns some of the waves sent his way when Kiyoomi gives a friendly nod to some of the waterbenders.

"They don't call you by your title."

A hum, "Sometimes they do, it's not that important. We should head back, my mother will be going over your duties with you."

Lady Akemi's lectures about his duties are long and overwhelming as she gives him a placating smile, shrugging into a blue parka, the collar of her deep green robes peeking out.

"I have to go now. It will be hard, but you can do it."

Atsumu looks at the scrolls they've set aside for him and feels like he's eight again, pitted against his brother as his grandfather watches from the shade of their firebending process. Pressure creeps over him even though he's far, far away from the Fire Nation.

There is one good thing that happens every morning before his disastrous attempts at understanding the inner city's trade laws.

He and Kiyoomi spar. 

Atsumu never fought a waterbender like Kiyoomi before, whose movements don't follow the flowing and sweeping motions he's associated with fighting the waterbenders in the Fire Nation but look similar to earthbending and firebending forms.

" _Fuck_ ," Atsumu pants, the snow all around him melting rapidly as he lies on the ground, steam covering the entire garden. Kiyoomi, equally flushed, smiles minutely at him, pulling him up. Atsumu was expertly dodging the giant icicles aimed at him before he was caught off guard by a wave of water that swept him to the other end of the courtyard.

"You did well."

Atsumu grunts, looking down at the snow. There's red on them and he pats his cheek, finger coming away with blood.

"Who are you meeting after this?" Kiyoomi asks, walking over to where an attendant is standing by with towels. Once she hands both of them to him, he speaks to her quietly and she nods, whisking away.

"A visiting cabbage merchant from the Earth Kingdom. Then I have to make sure the supplies to the outer villages are ready for tomorrow."

Kiyoomi turns, opening his mouth before he catches the blood on his face, "Oh."

"Don't sweat, it's a shallow—"

"I can heal it," Kiyoomi gestures for him to sit on the steps of the garden. Atsumu sits, careful not to melt the steps as he looks at the human shaped indent in the middle of the ice sculptures. 

Kiyoomi bends some snow from one of the quiet fountains burbling away, pressing his right hand to Atsumu's face. His face glows blue as Atsumu leans into the touch, cheeks rapidly cooling from the shock of ice water.

"Thanks," He mumbles.

"It's the least I could do."

Atsumu looks at him carefully, remembering that Kiyoomi seems to favor bending with his right arm over his left. Realization dawns on him.

"Can you bend with your left arm?"

"No, there's no chi path. It was blocked off and rerouted when I lost my arm."

Atsumu wants to ask how he lost it, but he remains quiet, "Those kicks of yours look Fire Nation. Who taught you?"

"I lived in the Earth Kingdom for a while. There was a firebender in the palace visiting and he trained me. There, you're good as new."

Atsumu clicks his tongue, raising a brow. It's not everyday he meets benders with vastly different bending styles, "You haven't been going easy on me, have you?"

"I have, especially when _you_ have been going easy on me," Kiyoomi tugs one corner of his mouth up, "I've noticed you know. Your mother told me you're a master firebender."

Atsumu grows quiet when his mother is mentioned.

Kiyoomi seems to realize he'd stepped on a touchy topic, "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry. I'd like to fight you seriously, master against master."

Kiyoomi deflects. He does this often to Atsumu— right when they're really getting along, he'd draw back almost immediately, "We'd ruin the palace. My mother would force you and I to untangle nets for an entire month."

"Then let's bend in an open field or something."

Kiyoomi makes a noncommittal noise.

"You're not scared are you?"

Kiyoomi draws his hands away, telling him that he needs to be in a meeting. Atsumu has the strangest feeling creep up through his stomach, like he's eight and the children of ministers and nobles are sizing him and Osamu up, looking at them like they're trying to think which one of them would be chosen to lead the country one day.

* * *

* * *

Kiyoomi takes Atsumu to a series of islands that belongs to the Northern Water Tribe by boat at the end of Atsumu's first month, stoking the waters with a simple wave of his arms. Today is one of the prince's rare days off and he asked Atsumu if he wanted to come along.

"Where are we going?" Atsumu is excited at the prospect of field trips, having never stepped out of the Fire Nation palace since he's always studying. The locals here already know to keep an eye on him so he doesn't wander off a canal and slip into the freezing waters.

"I'll show you," Kiyoomi gives him a rare smile.

The islands are far enough south that there's no ice or rocks around. Faraway, they can see the barest mountains of the Northern Air Temple in the distance. The currents here are turquoise and warm, causing the shallows to teem with sea life while the sun parted and made them shed their parkas. 

It is here where the Northern Water Tribe harvest most of their pearls used in jewelry.

Kiyoomi dives into the water like he's meant to be a son of the sea as Atsumu stares and stares.

The blue-green waters, the white sands, it resembles too much like Ember Island.

A wave of homesickness washes up on him. It's longtime coming, but he's been overworking himself until he couldn't think about home on most days to push the thoughts away. It reminds him how he hasn't heard from his family for weeks now as autumn ends, the days getting shorter and shorter. 

Right now, he's closer to his home than he has ever been since Kiyoomi took him from Caldera. The light blue skies above him are open to roam.

Is he so easy to forget?

When Kiyoomi pops up from the water, dragging with him a basket full of shells, the sweet curve of his mouth fades as Atsumu angrily scrubs his eyes.

"I'm fine," He chokes.

Kiyoomi doesn't say anything. He tugs on his robes and parka before bending them back to the North, the entire ride passing by in silence.

"Kiyoomi?"

Atsumu stops him as Kiyoomi drops the rope tethering his boat to the docks. The ice walls are back and his eyes are smooth, unreadable.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

When he replies, he smiles rather painfully.

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

* * *

* * *

He knows the North lives in absolute darkness for three months of the year.

But living in it is different than reading about it.

He curls up in his rooms. He's thinking a lot about his mother's words lately, for whom he shows his worth to. He thinks about never measuring up to his grandfather's standards. Once the letters arrive, his heart loosening as his mother tells him of the bird flu that swept the nation and how half the fire hawks have died, their silence makes sense.

But as he reads their words, of how Osamu is bored with court affairs and asks for the earliest date of his return, how his mother is doing well but would prefer if he were around, a picture comes to mind.

He's not needed in the Fire Nation.

He shakes his head when Kiyoomi asks if he wants to spar or juggle knives. He declines offers of Pai Sho and other strategy based games. 

He misses the sun.

* * *

* * *

Kiyoomi comes bearing tea when there's a blizzard outside that efficiently shuts down the city. Atsumu can't resist the smell of peppercorns, so he sits up in bed and apologizes for the state of his room.

"What do you miss most about the home?"

His heart thaws as the hot drink slices down his esophagus.

Atsumu thinks.

The gardens, he tells him, his mother's garden's specifically, with all of the flowers and shrubs and memories of tackling Osamu into a mud puddle when they were little, before titles and firebending ever mattered.

Kiyoomi is quiet, "I'm sorry."

"You haven't done anything wrong."

If anything, Atsumu should be the one apologizing. He'd lost count of how many times Kiyoomi and Lady Akemi had caught his blunders. He may be a good Fire Nation prince, but he started out as a below-than-average prince consort of the Northern Water Tribe.

Kiyoomi's mouth barely lifts into a smile, "It was my idea to give the Fire Nation a helping hand. It's hard living here, especially when we go three months of the year in absolute darkness and I know you hate it."

His words don't mince. There is no softness or unnecessary prose like how people speak to him back home. Kiyoomi tells him the truth, as honest and barren as the tundra with its howling winds and frigid grasp over them.

Atsumu tells him he's good at adapting. Kiyoomi's mouth tugs up like how Princess Suzume used to look at him, like he's lying out of his teeth and she knew.

* * *

* * *

Kiyoomi tells him to visit. 

He's so caught up greeting the dock workers and basking in the winter humidity that he misses footsteps heading in his direction until someone tackles him into a hug, laughing into his ear. 

"Sunarin?! Why are you here?"

"To get you, _dumbass!_ People were saying you showed up but Samu never got a hawk so I decided to check myself!" Suna tugs him away from the crowd, promising everyone that they'll bring him for a walk tomorrow morning as Atsumu pops out of the huddle of bodies to see Kero bowling his way, her reins dragging on one side.

He smiles widely as she completely flattens him to the ground, licking his neck, jaw and cheek in one giant greeting. Suna shakes her reins and orders her that she can't squish him or else he'd have an angry nation to answer to. Atsumu doesn't care, grinning and basking in the warm tiles baking from the afternoon sun.

He has tea with his mother again on Friday mornings. Osamu shows him the new teahouses that opened in his absence and he's given his old rooms. He falls back into the role he used to wear, the backtalk and hushed whispers as comforting as the responsibilities on his shoulders.

The North keeps communication minimal during their three months of darkness because not all birds can make their way through the blizzards safely. While Atsumu is in the Fire Nation, he speaks on behalf of the tribe, glad that his memory never failed him as he reviews proposals and papers.

He doesn't see Kita. There's a nagging guilt in the back of his mind when he thinks of him now. Kita had sent him a perfectly polite and friendly letter when the Fire Nation's mailing system sprung up again, but Atsumu only read a few lines about the warm weather and how everyone misses him before stuffing it in one of his drawers.

Cowardice, he knows, is not a princely trait.

He doesn't go near the libraries, only thumbing his new copy of One Thousand and One Suns in the candlelight out of respect.

Respect? Respect for what?

He stops midchew. Osamu asks if the komodo chicken dumplings had bones in them, concerned.

"No, no," Atsumu resumes eating, "They're good."

The thought lurks in the back of his mind for the rest of his stay.

"Stay for the Lunar New Year," His brother says, covered in sweat and dust as Atsumu lies next to him, wheezing but smug that his little brother still can't best him in bending.

The sun is warm above them. Atsumu thinks about a boy surrounded by glaciers, feeling how hot his cheeks are.

"I should leave soon."

Suna makes a face from where he's sitting on the steps. Osamu lifts his head up and pouts. 

Atsumu wavers.

When he returns, he tackles his duties with a gusto, relegating tales to the children as he runs across the ice with them gripping onto his shoulders and ears. He juggles tiny fire balls in his arms during midsummer, parka discarded to the side as he helps Kiyoomi cover all the fish they've gutted and cleaned with salt.

They return to their sparring matches in the morning. A column gets destroyed. 

Lady Akemi is not impressed.

They sit side by side as they untangle and fix broken nets. Afterwards, Kiyoomi holds his hands to heal the cuts that have accumulated on there and they end the night by sipping some wine and soaking their feet in the tub as they recount childhood stories to each other.

He calls Kiyoomi a friend now. Whenever they visit the Fire Nation for business, he terrorizes the kitchens like his mother told him _not_ to do, breathing down the cooks' necks so make the sea prune stew more sour for his husband's palate.

He is happy. Among the ice and whipping winds and reading proposals upon proposals, he finds that he doesn't miss the coiling sickness he feels whenever he has to enter the war room for an audience with the Fire Lord. 

It's easy, being with Kiyoomi and his family. 

One day, a cream white envelope arrives with a hawk. Atsumu looks at the familiar brushstrokes, feeling the smile on his face fade.

* * *

* * *

_His Royal Highness Prince Consort Atsumu is cordially invited to the union of Kita Shinsuke and Aran Ojiro._

* * *

* * *

_iii. to the victor, a crown of wheat_

He should be more upset, really, but he'd only wiped a few tears while Kiyoomi rubbed his back. 

Atsumu never entertained the thought of loving Kita despite Kiyoomi urging him the morning after their wedding. If he thinks about that conversation too much, a dull ache appears in his chest.

He returns to his duties after the wedding.

He becomes more adept at writing Water Tribe calligraphy, the quick brushstrokes of Fire Nation script giving way to elegant wispy letters reminiscent of ocean waves. He sits for tea with Lady Akemi as she tells him about her time growing up in the Earth Kingdom. 

The days of darkness are spent firebending with Kiyoomi as steam erupts from the ice garden every time water and fire meet. He finally adapted to his husband's fighting style and pressed his forearm on Kiyoomi's throat, not enough to crush but enough that the prince yielded to him for the first time.

"Last pomegranate wine is mine!"

Kiyoomi, surprisingly, has a childish streak. He hmphs as Atsumu dodges a wave of snow, "Your schedule's free for the next two weeks, right?"

"Yeah, Yachi and Kiyoko have just left to return to the Western Air Temples on their bison and I've finished telling off my people that they definitely can't trespass those pearl islands of yours even if it's technically still 'unnamed,'" Atsumu takes in a deep breath, "Why?"

"I'm heading to the Eastern Air Temple before the Four Summits. I know I'll be meeting you there, but do you want to come?"

The request in tentative. Kiyoomi is tensed, as if he knows exactly what's running through Atsumu's mind.

The last time Kiyoomi invited him to something, it ended in Atsumu crying on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

Atsumu clears his throat and accepts the invitation, determined to show Kiyoomi that he doesn't need any special coddling. 

Kiyoomi greatly regrets this when he's stuck on a boat as Atsumu and Konoha shriek sea shanties at the top of their lungs, the skies a calm, pastel blue while the prince of the Northern Water Tribe contemplates drowning them all.

"The Fire Nation will be _so mad_ when they realize you drowned me. You'll have to face my brother, my brother's fiancé, my mother, my firebending teacher, my swordmaster, my—"

"I _can_ and will spear you with my trident."

"He won't," Konoha teases, patting Atsumu's shoulders, "Our prince likes to act tough but he's just a like a Northern spider crab, hard-shelled on the outside, soft and flaky on the inside."

" _Konoha_."

"Tuna!" Konoha yells, dashing to the side of the ship. Everyone, including Sarukui and Washio, who are at the stern of the ship, reacts, stripping their robes off as Atsumu tosses a net overboard.

He watches as Kiyoomi jumps. He bends like a bamboo, two hands in front of his head, arms clamping his ears, cutting through the water without a splash. His dark figure darts around underneath like a leopard seal as the crew corrals the large school. Most of the fish escape the net, but they manage to circle and trap three large ones.

They eat well that night, warm from the stew. 

Atsumu peers out from the circular windows of his room. Despite being a person who rises with the moon, Kiyoomi is sleeping soundlessly across of him in his own bunk, curled up, his black hair peeking out of the blanket.

He spots the constellation Agni in the sky before he drifts off, warm in blankets that smell like the sea.

* * *

* * *

The Eastern Air Temples do not hold a candle to the stories his mother told him when he was little.

There are towering temples on mountains, mist covering the paths, gnarled, knobby trees jutting out of the hillside with a tall column of white rising out of the fog. Bridges connect the three mountainsides and there are bisons lazily flying around as they approach, the sun twinkling off the green rooftiles and gold gilding.

The nuns cooed over the dried seaweed and berries and traded medicinal herbs for them, as well as showed their gratitude by stuffing them with endless fruit tarts and encouraging them to pet all of the air bison calves.

Atsumu had never been back in an Air Temple ever since his last trip with his mother, so he sings, claps and dances for many, many rounds until the moon is full in the sky.

When he decides it's time for bed, he hears teeth chattering in the room the sisters have given them.

He makes a flame in one hand, seeing a shaking lump on Kiyoomi's single bed. There are snores coming out of the room next to them— most likely Konoha or Sarukui, "Are you okay?"

"I'm f-f-fine."

"You're not a good liar," Atsumu takes pity on him and strides over, nudging him gently until Kiyoomi rolls over to make room.

"I s-said I'm _f-fine_."

"I can't let the future chief freeze in his sleep," Kiyoomi immediately burrows into his arms, "See? Your body knows better."

A grumble comes from beneath his chin.

Atsumu gives his back a mocking pat.

They chat about Wan Shi Tong's lost library the next night when they're wrapped up under two blankets. They embark to the Misty Palms Oasis after the Eastern Air Temples, a tundra of pale golden sand and dunes around them. Atsumu grins up at the sun, soaking its warmth like a blade of grass, the morning chill still snaking his ankles.

When they enter a bar after a day of negotiating spices, Atsumu spots a bartender batting her eyelashes at an unamused Kiyoomi, cocking his head.

"Was he ever engaged to anyone?"

Konoha is on his fifth cup of cactus wine, surprisingly coherent. Atsumu's mother once brought he and Osamu here before they showed signs of bending, remembering how he saw a grown man keeling over after one cup.

"Also how are you not drunk?"

Konoha procures some leaves, "These break down the enzymes and hallucinogenic compounds," Atsumu takes one spiny leaf to inspect in the candlelight, watching Sarukui attempt to drag Washio to the dancefloor where a lady with long flowing hair is bent over a guzheng, "And why are you asking?"

"Just wondering."

Konoha gives him an expression that says, _you're not as slick as you think_ , but amuses him anyway, "He was never interested in relationships."

"Oh."

"Lady Akemi and the Chief was worried about it for a while, you know, she'd drag him up to the Earth Kingdom every spring and make him attend dates with the sons and daughters of her friends."

Atsumu suddenly feels the need to set something on fire, "Oh?"

" _Mhm_. I think he made a few of them cry."

"Because they kept throwing themselves on me when I clearly told them I was _not_ interested," An angry voice hisses.

Atsumu chokes on the bite of possum chicken with chilis, eyes watering as Kiyoomi slams down a giant glass full of something pink on the table.

"Oh, whatcha got there, Prince?"

"Moon peach and Zankan cherry slushie."

Konoha rises out of his seat, Atsumu trying to tug him back down and missing the hem of his shirt by inches, coughing, "Sounds delicious! I think I'll get myself one too. Be right back."

Atsumu coughs the bit of chicken out, hiding his face behind a sleeve so Kiyoomi doesn't have to see his flushed face and spitty mouth. The prince spoons an omelet of platypus bear egg with julienned cactus slices onto his bowl, robotically eating as he ignores Atsumu.

Atsumu swallows and attempts a meek smile, "The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

"We're indoors."

Atsumu makes a face at him and refrains from kicking his shins. He sleeps far, far away from Kiyoomi that night even though they're sharing the same room, pressed up against the wall and glaring at the crack in the stone with until he drifts off.

His bad mood vanishes when they stumble on a field of wildflowers after docking into Chameleon Bay. It smells like the gardens in the Fire Nation and he feels as light as the wind, plucking a few stems for a flower crown as he recounts his youth.

"Here," He leans and places the crown onto Kiyoomi's curls.

He catches color riding on his cheeks when Kiyoomi turns and points to a stall lending ostrich horses. The little crown doesn't leave his head until they've reached the outskirts of Ba Sing Se's outer rings.

But when Atsumu finishes washing the grime of travelling, toweling his hair dry and finding green and yellow robes placed on his bed by a helpful palace staff, there's a slightly crushed, albeit intact flower crown in Kiyoomi's open trunk.

* * *

* * *

They're in Ba Sing Se for the Four Councils Summit to start. This meeting occurs every four years and compromises of world leaders, their representatives and guests.

"You have your papers?"

Atsumu brushes the dust off his robes and nods, not really believing that Osamu managed to convince their grandfather to let him represent the Fire Nation when he's technically not their prince anymore.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror. He's not wearing his royal armor, but he's shrugged on a set of red robes that had been sent to Ba Sing Se on the fastest cruiser from the Fire Nation, reunited with his old black and gold arm bracers.

Kiyoomi hums, standing by his side, reaching sideways and fixing the way the deep red outer robe is creased against the gold silkworm sash around his waist. He has on a short-sleeved parka, the color a deep blue with fur trimmings on the hem and hood. One forearm is covered by a dark blue bracer and there's no scarf hiding his neck where Atsumu's betrothal necklace shines in the sunlight.

"There," The arm retracts and Atsumu blinks, looking at the faint pink in his cheeks as Kiyoomi tilts his head and gazes at their reflections. "We should go now, the Summit will start soon."

Atsumu shakes hands and smiles. The Summit boasts mostly Earth Kingdom citizens, but there are a fair amount of people walking around in orange and yellow robes and he nods a hello to Tooru, the son of the current Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, who is off chasing after a grumpy earthbender that lives on Kyoshi Island.

He meets up with his team. The current finance minister, a middle aged firebender with greying hair by the name of Lin, gives him a deep bow. One of his mother's old friends, Lady Tazin, who sits on the board of engineers in the company she owns, coos at seeing him again. He's in the middle of speaking to several inventors and farmers when a new voice interrupts him.

"Do you ever stop growing, Prince Atsumu?"

"Prince Consort," He corrects Healer Arai, who smiles at him. "And I stopped measuring my height since I was sent off to the navy. Are you here for the Summit, too?"

"One of the topics that will be brought up during the week will be about health, and I have been ordered to remain here on standby as the Fire Nation's representative," His eyes twinkles, "You seem in good health, my prince."

"You as well. It must be the ginseng tea."

"You were much more receptive to swallowing it compared to your brother. Does he still spit it out when I turn my back?"

Atsumu grins, "I believe he grew out of that habit."

Healer Arai gazes past him, "...This is the first time I've seen Prince Kiyoomi up close."

Atsumu turns, seeing where Motoya has his arms slung around Kiyoomi, dragging him to a circle of Southern waterbenders and diplomats. He remembers the story Kiyoomi told him, how he spent years recovering in the Earth Kingdom. He gazes at the green rugs below, thinking of a one armed child chasing after his cousin in the peach groves.

The thought is short lived when a gong rings. Healer Arai bows, "I will see you later, Prince."

"We should meet for tea when there's a free moment."

"I'd like that."

* * *

* * *

The Summit descends into chaos when Atsumu let it slipped the permanent trade route that was made between the North and Fire Nation that was part of their prenuptial agreement.

The representative from Gaoling frowns, a severe woman that has Motoya cowering where he sat next to her, "To establish a permanent trade route is to shun all the other nations from trading with you."

"That was not the intention of the deal," Kiyoomi says, "The North extended a hand in the rebuilding efforts when the Fire Nation was struck with those hurricanes."

"And the North didn't reach out to us? It completely destroyed Senlin village and most of Omashu!"

"I was told that the South was giving a hand in assisting you," Kiyoomi states slowly. Tooru, sitting across the table, nods, backing him up. "Prince Tooru is at a much closer distance to Gaoling compared to the North."

"Then was a marriage necessary? It seems that the Fire Lord has favorites, Prince Kiyoomi," Her lip curls upwards, "The oil that was received in the Earth Kingdom is nowhere the same amount as what the Fire Nation was given, not to mention the lumber that was shipped to the North was doubled than what was initially promised at the last Summit."

Beside him, Lady Lin's ears heat.

Atsumu butts in because Kiyoomi kept eyeing the jug of water behind the Gaoling noble, "As Prince Kiyoomi stated, the North extended a hand in the rebuilding efforts. It's only natural that the Fire Nation repaid it. And we're childhood friends, is it so strange for us to marry?"

Lady Sun narrows her eyes.

"The Chief of the North and Lady Akemi did not have a trade agreement as part of their betrothal. In fact, with every political marriage that occurred in the past few decades, not one nation showed favorites when they were wedded. The North never had anything permanent, everything was always renewed every four years like the rest of world."

Atsumu blinks evenly as everyone around the table starts murmuring. Beside him, Lady Lin is quiet.

"Is permanency bad, Lady Sun?"

"Permanency is always bad, we must be adaptable, but in this case, the other nations are excluded, Prince Consort."

"Then if the rest of the nations would like a permanent trading route to be drawn on a map, I'm open to discussions at a later time with the finance minister."

Lady Sun's eyes glow, as well as several other's. Atsumu bites his cheek, looking at the unhappy slant of Kiyoomi's mouth as the tension in the room pops.

During lunch, he corners him away in an empty drawing room.

"Did I overstep?"

"No, I'm just.... We're not fond of drilling into the ice to extract oil," Kiyoomi frowns, "I guess I could ask Konoha's family for advice in case petrol becomes a commodity like iron ore and diamonds."

Atsumu hangs his head, "She was attacking you when it's really my grandfather who pushed us to marry."

"I know," Kiyoomi pats his shoulders as he leads them out of the drawing room and back into their apartments, "Lady Sun is greedy, but she also wants the best for Gaoling. I think making permanent shipping routes is inevitable so we might as well start it now."

When they step inside, there's food already on the table and Konoha is crossing his arms over his chest.

"Heard there's some fighting going on."

Kiyoomi shrugs, crossing his legs on the floor and waves the attendants inside the room away. He waits until the paper walls are drawn shut and footsteps disappearing before speaking, "There's always fighting."

Atsumu nabs a chunk of steamed elephant koi with ginger and scallions, "Lady Sun of Gaoling wasn't too happy when she found out that the Fire Nation has a permanent trade agreement with the North."

"Oh, that'll do it," Sarukui hums. Washio, beside him, nods, "It's because they're spearheading the industrial revolution so oil, coal, metal and iron ore will be premium commodities. The South is also reluctant to drill, no wonder she's so angry when she found out the Fire Nation's been getting more than what was promised."

"What will you do if we end up having to increase our drilling?" Konoha asks Kiyoomi.

"Refuse."

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, "Can you do that? Outright refuse to entertain her?"

"The oil reserves and iron ore production can't be drained," Kiyoomi removes his arm sleeves, plucking a giant plate heavy with roast duck, "When we signed the marriage certificates, the Fire Lord agreed to reduce the amount of barrels and crates when he realized it'll be unsustainable for us. You cannot burn one nation to keep the other warm and I have a duty to make sure the future generations will continue to thrive.

"And," Kiyoomi turns to him, a dimple forming, "If Lady Sun decides to raise a fuss, let her. She's nothing I can't handle."

Konoha crows and punches Kiyoomi's human arm. Atsumu feels his cheeks heat at Kiyoomi's confident smile, watching his men swat his arm for being so confident as he rips his gaze away and stares at the table.

The warm burn in his heart turns all consuming.

* * *

* * *

By the end of the first day, Atsumu drops into his bed happily as he extinguishes all the candle light with a simple wave. On his own bed beside him, Kiyoomi collapses in the same manner after speaking for three hours straight about fishing.

"I never want to talk about it ever again."

"I'll do the fishing part next year for you."

"Deal. Did I mention about the tribe's protected waters? I have to remind the Earth Kingdom not to fish near the unnamed islands close to the Northern Air Temples," Kiyoomi suddenly asks.

Atsumu yawns, "You did. You also threatened them very nicely. Go sleep."

"Good," Kiyoomi replies by shuffling over and breathing slowly, "Wait, did I?—"

" _Sleep._ "

The shuffling ceases. Atsumu soon hears deep breathing, peeking to see that Kiyoomi's knocked out cold. He smiles to himself, pulling the blankets up close towards his chin when he snaps his eyes open, sitting up.

The room is empty. Kiyoomi is turned away from him. Atsumu places a hand on his chest and swallows, wondering what triggered him to wake up like he's under attack.

Then someone presses a cloth over his nose.

When he wakes, he's bouncing like a sack of potatoes, tossed on someone's shoulders. The full moon is bright and tells him all he needs to know.

There are three people. One is carrying him, the other two are masked and armed and his husband is chasing after them, drawing all the water from a nearby fountain into three separate wheels that whirl furiously around him.

Atsumu feels the rope in his mouth and the ones around his arms, torso and legs, preventing him from moving— not that he wants to, because they're currently leaping over rooftops as Kiyoomi's face twists into a snarl, punching out with one hand.

The water knocks one of his kidnappers. Kiyoomi freezes her and does a forward flip in midair, both legs shooting out in a pike position. The water propels forward and Atsumu screams into his bindings when he's blasted off his kidnapper's back, rolling on the roofs and catching himself on the edge as he looks up, soaked.

Kiyoomi ducks from blasts of fire directed at him, eyes livid and punches two small boulders aside. Icicles hurls out of the water cloaking him, catching the kidnappers in the arms and face as blood splatters on the tiles.

Atsumu takes a deep inhale and breathes out, feeling smoke curl in his mouth as the rope burns. He spits it out and lifts his head in time to see that Kiyoomi is staggering backwards from taking two small boulders to the chest, falling off the roof.

_"Omi!"_

The drop between the ground and the roof is steep and he's still tied up. Atsumu makes sure that Kiyoomi isn't hurt before yanking his legs up near his mouth, trying to condense his breath of fire to burn away at the weird cable around him. He wiggles too far and realizes he's pitched himself right off the roof.

He yelps before landing in a cushy pile of snow. He looks up to thank Kiyoomi and flinches when he rushes to his side, bringing all the snow into an ice shield, daggers and throwing knives bouncing off.

"Stay behind me," Kiyoomi commands.

Atsumu blinks, trying to gesture to his tied up state when Kiyoomi does a complex wave of his arms and torso, finishing by stomping his feet on the ground.

For a second, nothing happens.

Then Atsumu watches as ice spikes explode from the cobblestones of the Upper Ring, breaking apart the carefully laid pavements. He doesn't get to see the extent of the damage before Kiyoomi places a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention to him.

The cables are frozen and then Kiyoomi shakes his dagger out of his arm compartment, striking against it over and over again until Atsumu's upper torso is free. 

They get a warning by an arrow bouncing off an ice spike. Kiyoomi melts half the ice near him and draws the water close as he stands in front of Atsumu.

"It's the full moon!" He orders, voice bouncing off the empty streets, "Show yourself or I won't hold back!"

A giant fireball comes shooting towards them. Atsumu yells at him to duck, diffusing the blast with a circular wave of his arms.

A flying dagger comes whistling through the night, bouncing off Kiyoomi's metal arm. He snarls and spreads his arms out, the water cloaking him spinning behind like a whirlpool. Atsumu becomes alarmed, "Hey!—"

Kiyoomi waves his arms back, propelling on a surf of water. He freezes one of their kidnappers up the side of a library building before four sets of earth slabs shoots out and traps him.

Atsumu bellows just as the city alarm starts to ring, "Kiyoomi!"

Then a scream tears through the air.

Atsumu watches in horror, feeling his hands burn from where he was superheating the steel cables around his feet, tripping through the holes and uneven path as Kiyoomi's metal arm is bended off.

Distantly, he remembers Kiyoomi telling him how there are a series of nerve bundles at the end of his shoulder where it communicates with the metal arm the Earth Kingdom made for him. Ripping it off would give Kiyoomi the same trauma as getting his human arm torn off.

He whips his arms forward, livid. The flames at the end burns a bright blue and they catch the earthbender around their middle, whipping them quickly into a wall as they slide down to the ground, not moving.

"Kiyoomi," He runs, "Kiyoomi," He pats his cheeks, looking at the scrap of metal lying on the ground, motors, chunks of cable and weird liquid dripping out of his upper arm onto the stone slabs trapping him. Something is smoking. Atsumu touches Kiyoomi's torso for balance to find a giant cut on his side, his sleeping robe soaked in blood.

There's a faint whistling and then an arrow enters Atsumu's abdomen.

For a moment, they both look down at the wooden shaft buried in his torso before he moves his mouth wordlessly and tips forward.

His body is going stiff. Atsumu tries to move but his muscles are locking up. He's never been poisoned like this before, where something this fast-acting hit his system. An angry animal nearby bellows.

The stone blocks trapping Kiyoomi freezes and splinters apart. There are flashes of red and blue moving out of his peripheral vision. He struggles to raise his head.

Kiyoomi is saying something, but he sounds further and further away as minutes pass. It's like being dunked under the sea, the water absorbing every sound. The further he's pushed down, the more darkness swallows him.

"...ay stil..."

He's being propped up. Atsumu slits his eyes open, realizing that his head is tipped back. 

He rolls his eyes down, looking at Kiyoomi standing in front of him, eyes murderous, bent in an odd stance with the moon behind him.

Waterbending uses flowing movements. Atsumu was swept off his feet the first couple of times they dueled because Kiyoomi had adapted to a weird fusion of waterbending and firebending moves to make up for his arm, but there was always a familiarity to how he carries himself, a slice of home as Atsumu recognizes the firebending katas in Kiyoomi's movements.

Now almost bowing to Atsumu, his one working arm raised like a puppeteer, there's a sinister feeling that settles in his stomach. The wound on his side is gone.

His blood moves backwards. 

Atsumu would cry out if he could, catching Konoha's hair darting past him in the moonlight. Whatever Kiyoomi is doing is not waterbending. He breaks out in cold sweat as something black is slowly sucked out of his wound, pulled out like a rope.

He vomits from the pain, the invasion of something— _someone_ — in him, feeling a pressure around his abdomen, like the very muscles surrounding his torso is being clenched by an invisible fist. Kiyoomi's eyes softens a fraction of a degree and someone is telling him— there are two sets of hands around him, he realizes— to knock him out.

"— _raumatized and poi_ —"

_No_ , he tries, _no_.

He manages a croak, feeling a metal hand brush his cheek.

There's pressure around Atsumu's neck and he falls back into the currents, soothed by the sound of the sea and the memory of someone singing.

[ _Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas._ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZqzUiCQICQmjtpbFZYwnt)

* * *

* * *

When he wakes up, Healer Arai is hovering at his bed, the sun shining through the windows as he sweeps his arms up and down Atsumu, sensing his chi paths with firebending.

He groans.

Arai's face is pale and grey, "Prince Atsumu!"

Atsumu blinks against the sun, the last vestiges of sleep lingering like three heavy blankets on his chest. He gazes at his room— he sees his robes draped in the corner and Kiyoomi's trunk neatly tucked by the wall. His husband's bed is empty and the sun is halfway up into the sky.

"Where...?" He croaks. Arai thrusts a cup of liquid to him and Atsumu nearly gags at the herbal concoction, but he swallows it and coughs instead, feeling soreness from his torso as his memories comes back.

He jolts up, yanking the blankets down and untying his robes open. The arrow that was in him last night is gone. The only thing that makes him think that it's not a dream is a small scar, the skin only vaguely pink and angry.

"Where is he?" He sharply asks.

"Prince Kiyoomi is currently sitting in the Summit— _you must not attend!_ " Arai lunges across the bed as Atsumu attempts to roll out, "You are to be resting! You were nearly poisoned to death with an arrowhead dipped in the juices of deadly three berries!"

Atsumu shakes the arm off. He goes over to the corner and picks up a spare set of robes, "Where are the prisoners kept? Take me there right now!"

"You shouldn't! The Prince clearly said that you are to rest! _In bed!_ "

"I was nearly attacked yesterday by an assassin I didn't catch! Someone snuck up on me, drugged me _and_ shot a poisoned arrow!"

_"Prince Atsumu! You should be resting!—"_

"I'm fine!"

"You're not," A voice says.

Atsumu looks up to see Kiyoomi hovering by the bedroom door, a murderous aura around his shoulders. Arai, sensing the tension growing, dips his head and leaves their rooms, telling Atsumu that he will be back once the Summit resumes after lunch.

Atsumu rips his eyes away from his empty, dangling sleeve that has no arm, scanning his husband's bloodshot eyes and purple half moons bags. He walks back to bed, not realizing until now that Kiyoomi's spare sleeping robe had been tucked under his head for extra padding and shakes it out, looking at the wrinkles. 

"What happened last night?"

"Several assassins attacked several other guests of the Summit, all random. You were shot in the abdomen. The poisoned was fast-acting and began to paralyze you, but not before you fell from your bed and woke me up. Immediately, I attempted to heal you while I alerted the guards. Once the palace healers arrived, I ran off to help Konoha capture the assassin."

"They're caught?"

"Yes. They're with the Dai Li."

"I see," Atsumu says, looking at the way the sun shines on his blankets, tracing the pattern of blooming flowers, "It's a shame."

"...What is?"

"That I married a liar."

When he tilts his head up, Kiyoomi's jaws are clenched.

Atsumu strolls to Kiyoomi, watching the way his eyes flickers briefly at the little scar on his abdomen, "I was hallucinating from the pain and going under, but I remember distinctly feeling like my blood was going _backwards_."

Then he bends down, watching Kiyoomi's eyes glower as he mimics the position he was in last night, his dominant foot in the front, the toe pointed upwards, arms held out, fingers spread like a puppeteer.

There are glaciers in the prince's eyes and he twists his mouth into something ugly, " _You saw nothing!_ "

" _Whatever happened to not pretending or hiding things?_ " Atsumu hisses, knowing that the walls are thin. "I saw the poison floating out of my body— black. And then _you_ knocked me out because it was too painful! We fought _together!_ You don't need to lie!"

Kiyoomi doesn't say a word. He looks every bit like a prince of the Northern Water Tribe, wearing a short-sleeved sky blue parka that ends at his hips with leather boots, the full moon insignia on his chest with white beads half-hidden in his hair. His human forearm has a bracer coiling from elbow to wrist and his fist is clenched by his side.

A click of a throat and the sun beaming into the room fades slightly as a cloud covers half of it.

"You saved my life," Atsumu says, quiet, "I just wanted to thank you."

He staggers when Kiyoomi pulls him into his chest, like he's a tiny ship in the sea and Atsumu is his anchor, knees buckling as they both sink to the ground. 

Atsumu stares at the wall, feeling like he's pulled into the ocean itself.

It doesn't register until Atsumu's neck is wet that Kiyoomi is shaking, and he cards his hand through the curls as the clouds cover the sun, their yellow and green bedroom darkening.

_"I thought I lost you."_

* * *

* * *

He gets the explanation after the second day of the Summit has ended. Atsumu looks at the feast spread in front of him, stomach still full from the tea and herbal concoction Arai stuffed down his throat when Kiyoomi returned to the Summit.

"The Earth Kingdom feels partially responsible for the lax security," Kiyoomi says, voice thin and tired. Atsumu thinks about Motoya, who probably received the brunt of his anger and cold shoulder, "Eat to your heart's content."

Konoha, Washio and Sarukui are said to be eating in another room, though when the door opens to reveal a one of the palace attendants carrying several scrolls from the Summit and some tea, he could see Konoha's shadow on the wall in front of their rooms, guarding them.

"Did we find out who sent the assassin?"

"No," Kiyoomi says flatly, using his chopsticks to stir noodles in a creamy sesame sauce. Atsumu dips some pan fried dumplings into a bright citrus sauce, "Most likely those who are anti-government, we weren't the only room that was targetted last night. It's no use anyway, three of them took a pill and foam appeared in their mouths. I'm very disappointed, I've been told the Dai Li are _very_ good at convincing people to open their mouths."

Atsumu shrugs, "You can't have everything in life."

Kiyoomi gives him a glare, "This isn't funny. Someone nearly took your _life_."

"And they will continue to do so; that was not my first foray into being assassinated. I'm a royal, I've lost count how many times people tried to kill my brother and I."

" _Atsumu_."

"I'm honoured really, being on someone's hit list means that I'm threatening enough to be taken down. I guess being the former general of the Fire Nation army and the captain of the navy gives me some merit."

"You're impossible," Kiyoomi says with a crabby glare. He picks the bait, however, "You were a former general?"

There's a frown on his face. Generals are the highest ranked military officers in Fire Nation army and most of the ones in the Fire Lord's inner circle are grizzled men with white hair.

"When royalty leave active service, it's tradition for the Fire Lord to promote them to what their ranks would be if they continued. I was the youngest Lieutenant before I left," He picks up another dumpling, "It's the same in the Water Tribe, isn't it? Princes have to go through training for both land and sea if they intend to inherit the crown?"

"It's a little less formal for us. We're not pushed to do both land and sea."

The drizzle outside starts again, water bouncing off the giant lily pads in the pond adjacent to their room. There's a frog croaking outside and a bird zips through the bushes.

Atsumu takes a dumpling and holds it up to Kiyoomi. 

They don't talk about how Kiyoomi cried in his lap until the bell that ended lunch rang around the palace, and not how Atsumu never wanted to do anything more than twist his hands into his parka for him to stay, but watched in silence as the sliding doors shut behind him.

After a pause, Kiyoomi looks down at his one hand, "I can still eat you know, I just can't pick up bowls and use utensils at the same time."

"Don't be a brat, open your mouth."

Kiyoomi does so. He chews the dumpling and Atsumu takes a sip of his cabbage soup before clearing his throat.

"...I'd like to hear about how you saved me, if you're willing to tell."

Kiyoomi finishes chewing and puts a hand on his chin, the elbow leaning on the table as he looks out to the open window. 

Petrichor is heavy in the air. Kiyoomi's hair is painted in the golden glow of the candles, the black strands turning a warm brown as his face is coated in the blue coming from the gardens.

"There's a sub-skill of waterbending where we bend the fluids in someone body," He says slowly, "There's only one person in the Southern Water Tribe who is a master, and she taught me upon my mother's request after I survived the polar bear dog attack.

"Frequent uses of bloodbending wears at the user's mental state so it's not widely known. It's also the most difficult of the bending sub-specialties," Kiyoomi gestures to the window with his chin, voice hollow, "In that moment, I was _you_. I felt everything you felt and you were slipping away faster than I thought I could've stopped the poison."

"Kiyoomi..."

"There were only seconds left before you completely seized up. Running for a healer would take too long."

Atsumu feels threads of the green and cream colored floor cushion below him, fingering the yellow tassels as Kiyoomi tries to hide his discomfort by giving brooding looks out the window.

He swallows. Kiyoomi felt him dying second by second. Of course he didn't want to talk about it.

Atsumu moves his leg, seeing Kiyoomi nearly jump to the ceiling when their knees bump into each other under the table.

"What did I miss while I was resting?"

The tightness in Kiyoomi's shoulders relax. They speak about politics for the rest of the night. Kiyoomi gestures to the scrolls, a summary of the second day of the Summit taken by a helpful scribe, for Atsumu to read in his own time.

When they're getting ready to go to bed, he sees Kiyoomi speaking to someone outside their rooms. Atsumu nibbles his bottom lip, the hand that he uses to extinguish all the candles curled by his side.

Kiyoomi walks back and hovers like a worried hen, tugging his blankets needlessly and fluffing the pillows like Atsumu is a child. He walks perimeters around the room, checking the window five times before he's satisfied, shuffling beneath his blankets.

Atsumu extinguishes the candle and immediately sinks into nightmares.

He can't see, he can't hear and he has no control over his body. There is only the crushing darkness and lack of senses. Where is the sun? He tries to shift his head left and right, looking for warmth, to get away from the arrow inching closer and closer into his abdomen when a hand shakes him awake and—

"Atsumu!"

The full moon hovers right behind Kiyoomi's head.

He's never noticed how bright Kiyoomi's eyes are as a hand wipes the tears away.

"You're fine, you're fine."

Atsumu buries his face into Kiyoomi's hand, letting himself be petted. Kiyoomi starts humming a song about black waters, the moon watching over them and sleeping in the arms of the slow swinging seas.

When Atsumu starts to drift and Kiyoomi is pulling back, he reaches forward, grabbing a sleeve.

"Stay for one night."

Kiyoomi doesn't move for a very long time, then Atsumu feels him slip in.

He dreams of the sea that night, listening to the tugging of blankets as he sees the ocean washing up against beaches, of Kiyoomi's constant shifting and warm body. He can hear again. The sun is warm on his back and has one arm wrapped around Atsumu's waist.

When he wakes up, the morning sun is streaming through the slits between the sliding doors leading to the engawa and Kiyoomi has his head buried in Atsumu's neck, one sleeved arm draped on top of his waist, seeking warmth.

* * *

* * *

Kiyoomi doesn't hesitate when Atsumu asks him to sleep with him the night after. They shuffle into bed easily and quickly, and Atsumu extinguishes all the candles with a wave of hand save for one.

"I'm relieved," Kiyoomi says.

Atsumu listens to the sound of music from one of the faraway rooms. The moon is starting to wane.

"What do you mean?"

"I was afraid of your reaction," Kiyoomi raises his hand up, shafts of moonlight slicing across the blankets. His specialists had come barging into the palace today and fixed his arm during lunch. Atsumu studies his fingers, noting how his right pinkie is crooked. The left metal one has been bent to the same angle, giving the metal limb character.

He blinks sleepily at the ceiling, shuffling closer to Kiyoomi, "I should be the one thanking you," He pauses, then adds, "Thank you. You saved my life."

Kiyoomi's uncomfortable silence still speaks volumes, as if he's had a lifetime to be accustomed to the idea of bloodbending but still despises it.

Atsumu decides to hum.

"...Is that the song Princess Suzume sang? About the dragon and the phoenix?"

"No," Atsumu's mouth curves up, "This is _your_ song. The one about sleeping in the arms of the slow swinging seas."

"That's definitely not how it goes. You're terrible."

Atsumu jabs him. Kiyoomi snickers into his ear, swishing his legs beneath their blankets. Atsumu jams them together with his, trapping them.

Kiyoomi's breath hitches. Atsumu freezes, wondering if he crossed a line before Kiyoomi slowly moves his hips closer, pulling his knees so his bare feet skims Atsumu's legs.

"Fuck you're so cold!"

Kiyoomi snickers, pressing down harder.

Just before he sleeps, Atsumu opens his eyes to the silver light coming through between the sliding doors and thanks the moon for protecting him. 

He does not dream of hands pulling him underneath the sea and instead, presses a kiss onto Kiyoomi's cheek when he opens his eyes to the sunrise in their room.

* * *

* * *

Just as the Summit wraps up, the Earth King falls ill.

* * *

* * *

"Where...?"

It's the next day. Atsumu glares, crossing his arms and shrugging as Motoya peers behind him like he's hiding Kiyoomi under the blankets. He steps out and shuts the door of his apartments behind him. There's the smell of breakfast in the air in the guest wing.

"He left."

"...My cousin takes his duties very seriously."

The anger in Atsumu's heart flickers out, "I know. I thought he was being rude but... losing four hands during the spring and summer _is_ bad for the tribe."

"...You're not what I expect of a Fire Nation prince."

"' _Fire Nation prince_ ,'" Atsumu repeats, quiet, thinking of Arai, Lady Lin and inventors and farmers whom he sat with and spoke to at the Summit, "My people still call me that."

Motoya is quiet.

"Did you want something from him?" Atsumu frowns, realizing the cousin hasn't moved, "He already left, but I can get a hawk to him."

"No, actually, I was looking for you," Motoya raises several scrolls up, "If you have time, I know a good teahouse that serves white dragon tea. Lady Sun has already left for Gaoling, but she's interested in establishing trade routes to the Fire Nation's southern islands."

"Of course," Atsumu falls in step, not realizing how he automatically put on his thin parka and a pair of dark blue arm sleeves like Kiyoomi's until he passes a mirror, "Lead the way."

* * *

* * *

_iv. lightning beast, king of the sea_

He doesn't realize how much Kiyoomi permeated into his life until the ship carrying him has to turn back.

"I can just walk across the ice," He says, throwing a leg over the railing and being yanked back by Osamu just as a giant leopard whale shoots out of ice and snaps at the empty air where Atsumu's legs had been. They both collapse onto the metal deck of the cruiser as guards panic.

"You are _not_ walking across," Osamu threatens.

Atsumu sighs. He asks for a hawk and tells his brother he'll be in his room for a few hours.

He sips his tea as his mother fusses with a giant book of fabrics from a well known cloth emporium. Osamu's wedding is still two years away but there's so much fanfare that goes into a royal wedding not held in the middle of a recovering nation that there needs to be a two year buffer.

Suna and Osamu are surrounded by scrolls of the names of every important people in the world. They're supposed to be making guest seating plans for the dinner party, but by the way smoke is appearing in Osamu's hands, Atsumu is sure that his brother is trying to reel in his temper and not torch the paper diagram their mother had drawn out.

Atsumu grins, "My ceremony only took a week to plan. Didn't have to talk to a _single_ minister about whether their extended family would like to attend."

Osamu shoots him a dark look. Atsumu takes that message to excuse himself, telling his mother that he'll take a walk around the gardens.

He stands by the turtle duck pond, tossing grapes as he thinks about destiny and fate, of the boy who managed to end up in his mother's private gardens while Atsumu happened to stumble upon him, how they were strangers, friends, then strangers again, years later.

And the ice. He wishes he could melt a path to the Northern Water Tribe. He was never good when it comes to patience.

"Prince Consort Atsumu?"

He turns. Kita is standing several feet away.

They exchange a few words. Atsumu can only look at the gold ring around Kita's finger as he tucks several scrolls to his hip, dressed in robes the color of deep plum. He must have just gotten out of a meeting with the Fire Lord's Court then.

He agrees without thinking, watching Kita smile as he hands off his scrolls to a junior historian, leading Atsumu out of the palace grounds and into a carriage

They watch the houses thin out. Nothing much had changed in Kita's house on the outskirts of the capital. Atsumu stares at the stone walls and slightly rusted metal gate, the weathered name plate with faded paint chipping off.

And when they walk towards his house, Atsumu stares at the chasm between their feet, noting the way the well kept grass are trimmed, not one wildflower creeping across the path, "I hope I'm not bothering you."

He and Osamu used to tag after Kita like ducklings following their mother, dogging his every step, tugging on his robes, trying to catch his attention. After Atsumu got married, he knew he hadn't been the best pen pals to Kita when it comes to replying to his personal letters.

And when Kita speaks, drawing back the front door for him, it is soft, "You? Never."

Atsumu startles when he hears the cry of a baby.

"Ah," Kita breathes. They listen as one pair of feet shuffles somewhere in the house, a woman's voice cooing the baby, "I apologize, my son is teething."

"I can come back another time if this is inconve—"

"Nonsense, come in. I have some new tea from the Earth Kingdom you might like."

Kita vanishes into the dark hallways. Atsumu has no choice but to follow.

He sits in silence, watching Kita's hands sweep across the low table, the rice paper walls separating the engawa and tea room pushed aside. There's a scent of ripened peaches in the air. Wisps of clouds are travelling across the octane blue skies of his childhood. It looks too much like the day he left the Fire Nation.

There's a soft voice murmuring throughout the house, calming down an infant's cry.

"Where's Aran?"

Kita shakes several balled up leaves into a pot, "Away. Princess Suzume's old treasurer, Ayane, retired recently to Ember Island. It's a big step from his former job as an equerry and he's over there receiving final instructions from her."

"I see."

Kita hums and asks if he's been to Ember Island recently to get away from the winter chill.

Atsumu had only been there once. The Fire Nation took a week break during a particular bad draught because no one could focus in the heat. His father grabbed all of them and fled. That summer, Atsumu and Osamu raced around, tossed crabs into buckets and sat on their mother's and father's shoulders as they splashed at each other in the shallows.

The next year, Kiyoomi visited. His father said it would be good for them to spend summers together since all of them would be world leaders one day.

The two years after, the Fire Nation went into their worst draught and lost a prince.

Atsumu wonders what happened to the vacation house.

He unsticks his throat.

"No.... I heard the Ember Island Players will bring back _Love amongst the Dragons_."

"Are they? Perhaps we should go there for the weekend. It's been six years since they last brought that play to the main island."

Several sentences are on the tip of Atsumu's tongue but as he watches Kita flip the hourglass, he stares at the squat table instead, the way his hands are folded in his own lap, clenched.

"Is the Prince treating you well?"

He nods. He tells Kita of their sparring matches, going off on a tangent about their scoreboard as Kita pours their tea into black lacquered cups that reminds Atsumu of his husband's eyes.

"I'm glad you have someone who you can call a friend there."

Kita beams at him and Atsumu goes quiet. He drinks his tea and dutifully follows Kita once they've finished the pot to nod at his flowers and peach tree, the grass once more beneath his feet. They trade general remarks about the crop yields of the Fire Nation and Atsumu's experience when he fell into arctic waters after tripping on some seaweed the dock workers accidentally left lying around.

Kita smiles politely and inquires about life up north. After the sun starts to set and Atsumu peeked at Kita's son, sleeping peacefully in his crib as his wet nurse bids Kita good night from the front door, the conversation halts.

Atsumu thinks to a time where he could babble about anything and everything, two cups of tea and books between them. Everything was simpler then, wasn't it?

The sun is setting, the skies are orange with pink clouds drifting from side to side. He announces that he should be getting back to the palace.

"How will you get back?"

"I can walk. Thank you for the tea and basket of peaches."

Kita raises an eyebrow. Atsumu tells him it's not that long, perhaps an hour if he's strolling and admiring the scenery. He's walked for much longer in the North, dragging kills and helping the hunters clean their meat. And it is nice to be alone.

There are times Kita looks at him and Atsumu thinks he can read his mind, the way his heart is hurting like he's an open book.

"Permission to break protocol, Prince?"

"...Permission granted."

A gust of summer wind, the air already cooler than the stifling heat that simmered in the palace's gardens, skims around Atsumu's cheeks and forehead like the hand of a lover.

"I am long overdue but," Kita raises his hand and sweeps the little flyaway that has escaped his topknot and weaves it back in, "What you were going to tell me the day you returned from sea... do you want to tell me now?"

Atsumu thinks of the bookish boy he watched from afar, his steady presence throughout the years Atsumu sought recognition, longing for the days where he could say ' _Shinsuke_ ' in the breath Kita would call him ' _Atsumu_ ', of the letters Kita sent during Atsumu's four years at sea, of his copy of _One Thousand and One Suns_.

"I loved you."

He thinks about the letters he kept from Kita between his robe and armor.

"For... six years perhaps? I loved you," Atsumu says, something like a smile on his face, "I looked forward to each letter you sent... each time we would be in the library together."

Kiyoomi's head pops into his mind, his steady presence during Atsumu's first month in the North, of the following weeks where they spent time with each other surrounded by scrolls, the hunts Kiyoomi had taken him to, the parties and meetings they attended as leaders-to-be, the beds they've shared.

"And then I fell out of love," He whispers, before looking up to see Kita's rueful smile, "But you never loved me the way I loved you, am I right?"

Even if Kita gives him the answer his twenty-two year old self wanted, Atsumu would not change a thing. He will go home to the seas after this.

"...You're right," Kita retracts his hand, folding it in his sleeves, "But I do _love_ you, Atsumu. Present tense. I want you to be healthy and happy."

The orange skies dim to a deep mauve, the sun finally sinking behind the faraway volcanoes. It seems fitting that the sun is setting now, pulling all the reds and golds with it as blue descends, taking its rightful place in the sky.

Atsumu takes in a deep breath, tasting wildflowers in his mouth.

"I know."

* * *

* * *

In the end, he steps onto the boat with a lighter heart and looks up at the moon, pulling his parka on as they reach colder waters. The stars are bright and he recalls the constellation of Agni and the phoenix from his childhood, but also of Tui and La from the first winter he spent with Kiyoomi.

It's strange to think that years ago, he used to feel a sense of hopelessness whenever he stared out into the sea. Water saved his life many, many times, but it also took him away into a land of ice and few creature comforts. He used to hate it, being away from his family, but now it brings him peace of mind to be in the Northern Water Tribe. Whereas he couldn't walk out of the palace without attention and a few guards flanking him, now he can take a few steps away from the inner city and listen to the quiet silence as snow absorbs all sound.

He drops into a large stance, breathing in the salty sea. He swings his arms in slow circles, a bright light appearing in front of his closed eyelids as his blood sings.

Even as his beloved coastline faded away, the air around him becoming sharper with cold every minute they're heading towards the land of glaciers and howling winds, the Fire Nation with all of its tide pools teeming with life, lush forests, his mother's beautiful gardens, emerald fields and rich volcanoes, will remain in his heart.

And it'll remain there with a memory of his brother by his side as they chased after Kita's back.

He strikes one arm out.

Lightning shoots out of his fingertips.

* * *

* * *

The sunrises in the Northern Water Tribe are always terribly vibrant. The dark blues would lift from the skies and the last ebbs of the Northern Lights fades to make room for the blood red sun in the horizon. It's not the gradual shift of colors he sees in the Fire Nation, but two fiery shades— the darkest of reds and blues— coexisting side by side.

But this sunrise is reminiscent of the ones in the Fire Nation.

Atsumu shivers, seeing a lone figure standing at the edge of the cliff, hands buried in his pockets.

The morning sun, all in its orange glory, greets Kiyoomi's face like a lover, turning his eyes the warmest shade of brown as Atsumu stares at his betrothal necklace winking at him.

Kiyoomi asks how the Fire Nation was, always cordial. Atsumu tells him about what he's gotten up to.

Atsumu had his portrait painted a couple of days before he left. He wonders if Kiyoomi is partial to the idea of having his face immortalized in the hallways of the Fire Nation palace.

Then Kiyoomi asks if he likes it here.

"Why the question?"

"Because," Kiyoomi says, facing the sun, closing his eyes and tilting his chin up, drinking its icy warmth, "I love you. I have been, for almost a decade."

He half smiles to himself. Atsumu stares and stares.

"I thought you should know."

Atsumu stands rooted in the snow, watching Kiyoomi's back retreat towards the village where people are already up. Smoke trails out of the chimneys and fisherman are loading mended nets and steel traps onto their ships while several weather forecasters are taking note of the time the sun rises. It is so unlike the Fire Nation where they measure the depth of the wells each morning because no one can survive without water there.

Here, it is the opposite. No one can survive without the sun.

He chases after his husband and tackles him, both of them going down without grace.

"You think you're so cool," He brushes away the snow in Kiyoomi's hair. Kiyoomi reflects his home here, pulling up giant, massive walls that are hard to get into, but Atsumu has seen inside of the Spirit Oasis and felt its warmth, "Saying that to me and then leaving."

"I wasn't expecting an answer," Kiyoomi rasps, "I just wanted you to know. You still care for Kita, after all."

"Stop it," He tells him, "He doesn't matter anymore, it's not like that between us."

"But the Fire Nation is your _home_. You can go back."

Atsumu shakes his head.

He thinks about his brother growing into the shoes of a Crown Prince. He thinks about his mother moving on with life without her husband, trying to set a good example to them while also being under the rule of his grandfather. He thinks about those hours of effort that bore no fruit and erasing them in his head.

"No," He tells Kiyoomi, brushing his hair away from his mouth, thinking about how his life in the North is just beginning, unlike his life in the Fire Nation where it has ended, "As a diplomat, definitely, but the Northern Water Tribe is my home now. I'm not needed in the Fire Nation, not anymore."

Atsumu glances down at Kiyoomi's mouth before his husband sits up.

"I want to show you something."

Kiyoomi holds onto his hand firmly, waving a hand so an icy path leads back to the city. The wind whips around them as he half slides and half walks, pulling Atsumu along.

Atsumu catches sight of the glass hydroponic farm, several people milling about inside with their parkas off. The sunlight refracts through the glass buildings, throwing rainbows on the snow paths beside it as Kiyoomi leads him around the back to a smaller, circular one that has no sign on the outside save for the seal of the chief's family.

"What's this?"

Kiyoomi lightly gestures him to enter.

Once Atsumu has removed the snow off his boots and slipped through the double doors separating the outside and inside, he stiffens, pulling the humid air through his lungs again even though the North had just came out of a winter.

There are his mother's roses here, the rare ones she struggled to grow. There's also a pond, a fountain burbling somewhere, grass, a young wisteria tree, some reeds, but no turtle ducks. As he twists his head around, he picks out miniature versions of everything he'd told Kiyoomi he missed the Fire Nation for, however many years ago that was.

When he turns, Kiyoomi's cheeks are pink.

"Your own gardens. A home away from home."

His blood is buzzing with the sun directly above them. He is thinking about black lacquered tea sets, cinnamon sticks and ground cloves, pomegranate wines and lush gardens in the middle of tundras.

Things that would allow a firebender to live in the tundra.

"You like it?"

"Like it?" Atsumu echoes, before laughing, " _Like_ it? This is incredible!"

Kiyoomi's cheeks are so, so red. 

When they kiss for the second time, they block out the sun between them. 

The boy with sky blue robes tastes like the sun and sea.

* * *

* * *

_v. perhaps the sun i was chasing was you after all_

(He was six when he saw the boy in sky blue robes throwing grass into the pond, nine when his whole world turned upside down)

There will always be a part of him that seeks the Fire Nation. It is his homeland after all, he grew up in the palace and learned the twisting alleyways of Caldera's back streets. He knew the history and each story his forefathers have written down.

(He was eighteen when he became a master firebender, twenty-two when he married Kiyoomi)

But he knows of the hidden nature of court as well, the backstabbing, the restless rumors and court vipers wearing sheepskin. It is as much part of his identity as dream-laced sunsets are to the Fire Nation as frigid winds and blinding sunrises are to the Northern Water Tribe.

(He was thirty when he can say he fell for the dark seas, snowcapped mountains, glaciers and howling winds as easily as he fell for Kiyoomi, little by little, and then all at once)

Perhaps he's not meant for crowns and titles like his brother is, maybe he's meant to lose his way and tread water.

He enters their bedroom as Kiyoomi blearily blinks, tugging on the new betrothal necklace Atsumu had carved for him from where it shifted to the side from sleep. It seemed appropriate to replace the old one that he carved in the Jang Hui province before he fell in love with him, and he, in turn, fell in love with the sun that Kiyoomi carved out of a red-orange nephrite, wound around his own neck.

(And if the dark red ribbon the nephrite hangs from looks familiar to Osamu and some of the older palace staff when he visits the Fire Nation, Atsumu only smiles)

The full moon glimmers from Kiyoomi's throat. 

Atsumu bends down to kiss the sun.

* * *

* * *

_vi. i'm glad i'm not the crown prince, i wouldn't have been able to love you otherwise_

"Don't miss me too much," The figure in a black traveling cloak says. The sea is eager to depart, almost pulling on the giant cruiser from port as waterbenders stand nearby, waiting to fill the canals on their Chief's orders.

"I always do," The Chief exhales, a puff of white trailing out of his mouth. Nearby, a child with curls wearing a sky blue parka with a dragon embroidered on the back in silver thread is offering a strip of seal jerky to a wary seagull, enticing it to beckon closer, "Even if we've been doing this for twenty years now, I still do. You leave too often, Tsumu."

Atsumu raises an eyebrow, "...Did you know? You've left me once before too."

"I've _never_."

"You don't remember? And you were so drunk last night, grumbling about how I come and go like the ancient stories about the sun and months of darkness!"

Though he doesn't understand a lot of Kiyoomi's drunk mumbling, he did catch a few words that sound like 'seasons', 'always' and 'clockwork' last night.

At Kiyoomi's frown, Atsumu smiles, cupping his jaw as the sunrise turns their icy world warm.

"Did you think I would forget about the boy who left and returned to me sixteen years later?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lengthy author ramble ahead.
> 
> first of all, thank you for reading this far if you've reached this notes. this spawned out of a 'what if i wrote atsumu's accompaniment to sakusa's pov?' and it spiraled. naturally, i can't write short things so it blew up and quickly surpassed the original 6K we had in the first chapter. 
> 
> perhaps it was written poorly, but i wanted to explore a selfless atsumu, one who understands his role as a prince to his people and what he has to do as a future leader. he struggles a lot, always in his brother's shadow growing up, never measuring up until he was inevitably traded away.
> 
> i hit several writer's block while writing this, mostly trying to find the balance between prose and atsumu's backstory while also attempting to work sun/moon/ocean metaphors and using allusions from the previous chapter to tie everything. i'm not particularly proud of this piece, but i enjoyed writing parts of it and im proud of those parts.
> 
> ive decided that 2021 will be the year of editing. i wrote several fics in 2020 that i abandoned when i tapped into a creative hit (side eyes psycho pass sakuatsu) so i'll be editing and publishing those first. i think after this, an LDR sakuatsu should be looming in the future.
> 
> work has been...insane. im happy i can spend my free time writing. please continue to wash your hands -finger guns- now i will hibernate because it's past noon here and ive just crawled out of a very long night shift.
> 
> wear masks! be safe everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> -sakusa's mask/scarf thing is like what the northern water tribe army wore in s1, there's a screencap of it in the avatar wikia  
> -his hair is like tahno's from legend of korra  
> -this idea came to me when i looked up when the spring equinox was and my thoughts spiraled. atsumu always returns on sakusa's birthday /sobs  
> -atsumu grows to love him. he probably has been getting there before they fought
> 
>   
> you ever sit at work and wonder/wish you were born as a rock? no responsibilities....someone yeet me outta here
> 
> on a more serious note, please continue to social distance/follow the CDC guidelines! wash those hands and wear those masks -finger guns-


End file.
